Rogue Angel
by BizGirlCharlie
Summary: *finished!* She came from nowhere. She's Lita's cousin. It's time for the Rogue Angel to fly. (Not just a Hardyz fic, main characters change over time) Please read on!
1. Angel Torres

Name: Angel Torres 

Content: PG-13 (for violence)

Characters: You name 'em, I'll have 'em, but mostly revolves around Team eXtreme, Chris Benoit, Chris Jericho, Team RECK (Rhyno, Edge, Christian, Kurt Angle), Trish Stratus, and the Hollys. 

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone except the Mary Sue :-) All wrestlers are/were owned by the company currently known as World Wrestling Entertainment. Please don't sue me, all I have is a golden retriever. Seriously, I don't even have a car.

Author's note: The first few chapters really suck, but the beginning is a logical place to start. It starts getting good from the chapter entitled "A New Holly?" But really picks up around "Plans" and "A New Role" because this is where the character development starts happening. Also, when I started this I wasn't the supermark I am now, so you'll have to bear with me on some things…

Author's Note 2: Wait a minute. Didn't this used to be called Team Extreme? Well, yes it did. I decided to repost it as a single story and delete the old format. If you've already read some, it should be easy to find where you left off, since I name each chapter and I've now decided to do very brief one or two line summaries so you know what's going on.

SUNDAY NIGHT HEAT, JANUARY 14TH, 2001

A crowd of mostly teenage girls and other assorted fans mulled around the back entrance of WWF New York. Amongst them, a tall-ish girl with short, spiky black hair, commando pants and a green army jacket was arguing with the security guards. 

"I'm sorry, Miss, if you'd just step back and be patient, some superstars may be signing autographs later."

"I don't want an autograph, I've come to see my cousin."

"Your cousin, huh? Well, you're welcome to pay your money at the front like everyone else if your cousin's gone on ahead."

"You don't understand. My cousin's a wrestler. I've seen her on TV. She's got red hair – her name's Lita…"

"Right. Your cousin's Lita. And I'm The Big Show."

The girl cocked her head to the side. "That's nice for you. Can I see her?"

"Hell no, you can't." He pushed her back into the crowd. "Just sit tight and wait for autographs like everyone else."

The girl struggled but to no avail. The security guard was twice her size and had brought in two similarly sized reinforcements. There was no way she was getting in.

* * * *

Someone opened the door and held it open while speaking to the security guards. Unseen by them, the girl jumped the barrier, dove through the legs of the guy at the door, jumped to her feet and hit the ground running. The guards were onto her in a flash, but she had a small start. She'd run about fifty yards before they caught her and dragged her to the ground, pinning her arms and legs. 

"Let go!" she screamed. "Lita! Lita!"

* * * *

In the locker room, Lita and The Hardy Boyz were getting ready for their six-person tag match against Right To Censor.

Matt stepped behind Lita and put his hand on her back. "Ready to roll?"

Lita smiled. "You bet."

Jeff joined them as they left the room and started down the hall. Lita suddenly stopped. "Hold up guys. I think I hear something."

She turned back and followed the sound until she found the security guards, who were lugging the still-struggling girl towards the door.

"Is that some obsessed fan or something?" Lita asked.

At the sound of her voice everyone stopped. 

The girl twisted her head to face Lita as best she could. "Lita! It's me! Angel!"

"Angel?" Lita asked, frowning. "Angel as in Angel Torres, Angel?"

"Yeah. I came to surprise you."

"No kidding. You guys, you can let her go. She's my cousin."

"Like I told you," Angel said, taking the opportunity to shove the guards a little. The guards withdrew and returned to the door. Angel looked at her cousin and smiled meekly. "Surprise."

Lita grinned and hugged her. "Angel, girl. How long's it been?"

Angel's reply was lost as the two hugged. Lita pulled back. "Listen, girl, I have a match right now, but why don't you accompany me to ringside? I'll have to check with Matt and Jeff but I'm sure they'll be cool with it."

Angel grinned. "That'd be awesome."

* * * *

The Hardy Boyz' music hit and the crowd went nuts. On the ramp, Matt, Jeff and Lita moved their bodies in time with the music while Angel stood unmoving behind Lita, following her down. She'd removed her jacket and was now wearing a figure-hugging tank top with her black commando pants.

The ring announcer's voice came through the speakers. "The following six person intergender tag team match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, accompanied by Angel Torres, from Cameron, North Carolina, Lita, with Matt and Jeff, The Hardy Boyz." Matt and Jeff patted Angel on the back and entered the ring. 

Lita pulled Angel in and whispered in her ear, "You can sit over there." Then she gripped her cousin's palm and followed her partners, who were posing on the turnbuckles. Angel started walking to the seat Lita had pointed out as the announcer spoke again. 

"And their opponents, members of Right To Censor, being accompanied by Steven Richards, Ivory, Bull Buchanan and the Goodfather."

Angel took her seat near the announcers' table as four people wearing white shirts, ties and black pants started down the ramp. 

"Hey! Hey valet girl!"

Angel turned to see one of the announcers addressing her. "Me?"

"Yeah, you. Come over here."

Angel got up and sat next to the announcer with blonde tips. The other one was talking.

"Your name's Devil, right?"

"Angel."

"Right, little Devil. I'm Tazz and this is my good buddy M.C."

"Michael Cole," he introduced himself. 

"As we look to Jeff Hardy and the Goodfather to start us off, we've got Lita's cousin Devil joining us at ringside."

"It's Angel."

"He knows, he's just trying to get at you," Michael Cole explained. "Angel, as we see a nice sidewalk slam by the Goodfather on Jeff Hardy, I can't help but notice you have an accent."

"Yeah, I'm from Australia."

"An Aussie Devil, huh?" Tazz noted. "Hey, maybe _we're_ related."

"Jeff Hardy off the ropes, double clothesline and they're both down. Tag in Lita, tag in Ivory. Suplex by Ivory. Speaking of that, Angel, I didn't now Lita was Australian."

"She's not. I'm from Florida, too. I moved to Australia when I was ten. Boring story."

"Hey, we just like listening to you talk. Lita hits the Twist of Fate on Ivory. She goes for the cover but the ref is distracted by the RTC corner. Back in the mix now and Ivory kicks out on two."

"Hey!" Angel cried. "Did you see that? Lita would have had her."

"You haven't seen much wrestling, have you, Little Devil?"

"No, but how is that legal?"

Tazz laughed. "You know, Little Devil. You've got a lot to learn."

"As Lita tags Matt Hardy. Ivory reaches her corner, tags in Bull Buchanan. Bull hits the powerslam on Matt Hardy, goes for the cover, one, two, oh Matt just lifted his shoulder in time. Matt gets to his feet. Bull Buchanan sets up for a belly to belly suplex, reversal by Matt Hardy, Buchanan goes flying towards the corner, but the ref's there and they're both down. And what's this?"

"It's Steven Richards, M.C."

"Steven Richards pulls Matt Hardy down to the floor, but it's Jeff Hardy from the top rope, knocking both Matt and Steven down."

"What the hell?" Angel cried, leaping to her feet. "They're cheating!"

Tazz laughed again. "Sit down, Little Devil."

Angel ignored him. She walked over to the corner where the ref was still lying face down and slapped him. His eyes shot open and he was on his feet.

"Can't you see what's going on? They're cheating!"

"Sit down. I'll watch what's in the ring, you go sit down."

"But that guy…"

"I'm in charge here. Sit down."

"But…"

"Sit down or you're out of here."

"Fine." Scowling, she returned to her seat.

"And we're back with Angel Torres as Bull Buchanan takes on Jeff Hardy. Matt sets up for the Poetry in Motion. Jeff got him. He's climbing the ropes, probably looking for the Swanton Bomb."

"That guy's up to something," Angel said. "I'll be right back." She grabbed her chair and started after Steven. In the same second, Steven grabbed Jeff's legs, pulling him down on the turnbuckle, and Angel hit Steven across the head with the chair, causing him to slam into the steel steps.

"Take that, you jerk."

Jeff Hardy slipped off the turnbuckle and onto Buchanan for the unconscious cover, but somehow Bull kicked out on two. As they both struggled to their respective corners, Angel continued to pound Steven with the chair. 

"Get away from him!"

Angel spun to face Ivory. "Oh, you want some too, huh? Bring it on, baby."

Back in the ring, Matt hit the leg drop and tagged in Lita for the moonsault.

The ref counted one…two…three. 

"Here are you winners…" the announcer started as Angel raised the chair over her head and Ivory charged at her. Angel swung the chair but Ivory caught it and twisted it, forcing Angel to drop it. Just as Ivory was about to swing, both Matt and Jeff flew from the top rope, into Ivory. As Matt made sure Ivory was down, Jeff grabbed Angel and carried her, struggling, up the ramp.

"You're crazy!" he cried.

"That guy had it coming."

* * * *

Earlier in the night, Ivory had challenged an injured Chyna to a Royal Rumble match for the Women's title. Chyna didn't answer the challenge.

*******************************************************************************************


	2. Angel vs RTC

Name: Angel vs RTC 

Rating: PG-13 for violence

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

The story thus far: Angel Torres arrived at the WWF, expecting to be reunited with her cousin Lita. But what she got was an encounter with the censors of sports entertainment.

RAW IS WAR, JANUARY 15TH

Early in the show, Ivory strode purposefully to the ring and picked up the microphone. She was accompanied by Steven Richards, who was walking very gingerly and had a Band-Aid covering a cut on his forehead.

"Last night, a young woman claiming to be called Angel launched a brutal and unprovoked attack on our cherished leader, Steven Richards. Tonight, I'd like to see how she'd go in a fair, one on one match. The Right To Censor deserves, no, _demands_ respect and…"

Lita's music hit, cutting her off, and Lita and Angel appeared. They were dressed similarly in baggy black pants, with Lita in a multicolored crop top and Angel in a blue bikini top. Lita was holding a microphone.

"Last night, Steven Richards got what he'd had coming for a very long time, and it makes me proud that my cousin, a woman, could be the one to do it. That's a woman to be proud of, right, Ivory?"

"Proud?" Ivory cried. "You ladies walk out here looking like that and you're proud?"

Lita and Angel looked at each other, then back at Ivory and nodded. "Yeah, we're proud of how we look. And I think a lot of people here like it too."

A huge cheer rung out, followed by a chorus of, "Lita! Lita!"

Ivory was unimpressed. "They're not cheering because they're proud of you; they don't even respect you. They're cheering because you look like a couple of prostitutes." Another huge cheer. "You shouldn't cheer that. Would you be cheering if they were your daughters out here dressed like that? How about your wives?" Another cheer. Ivory scowled, knowing she wasn't going to change their minds tonight. "Someday we will make you all moral. But for tonight we'll start with Lita's scantily clad cousin. Miss Angel, do you accept?"

"While I don't doubt Angel could kick your ass, Ivory," Lita started. "She hasn't had any training and so would be at a disadvantage."

"Is she afraid she'll learn something, Lita? Is she afraid we'll teach her to fight the good fight?"

"As far as I know, Angel's not afraid of anything, especially not a whiney little bitch like you, Ivory. If you still want a fight, I'd be glad to step in."

"Well then, Lita. It looks like tonight, the morality starts with you."

Lita and Angel ran down towards the ring. Lita climbed in and Angel walked around the floor to where she could see Steven. She pointed at him. 

"I'm watching you, asshole."

He glared back. 

Angel was true to her word and when Steven tried to interfere by tripping Lita from outside the ring, Angel was there, pulling him off balance and getting in a few punches before disappearing as the ref came over to reprimand Steven for interfering.

Back in Lita's corner, Angel climbed up onto the apron and started clapping. The crowd joined in with her. After scoring a knockdown on Lita, Ivory spotted Angel and raced over to her. Angel was ready with a few punches of her own before the ref stepped in and separated them.

"Get down," he ordered Angel.

"But she started it…"

"Get down or I'll call you for interference."

"Bye-bye," Ivory gloated as Angel climbed down to the floor. 

Fuming, she went in search of Steven. She turned the corner and – DING! She was down for the count. Steven had hit her with the ring bell.

Back in the ring, Ivory was in charge of the match, until Chyna came strolling down the ramp. She accepted Ivory's challenge for the Royal Rumble match and distracted her long enough for Lita to hit the Twist of Fate and score the pinfall. As the ref raised her hand she looked for her cousin. 

"Hey Ange, did you see that? Ange?" She finally looked outside the ring and found Angel facedown and unmoving. She jumped down and shook her cousin but got no response. "Hey, I need a paramedic here!" she cried. She rolled Angel over and found that her face was covered in blood. "Help! I need some help here!"

*******************************************************************************************


	3. A No ShowBack In Action

Titles: A No Show; Back In Action

Disclaimer: As before

Spoilers: Include the shows on the dates given

Rating: G for these, mostly because they suck

TSTF (The Story Thus Far): Angel hates the RTC. But with a ringbell to the head, has she bitten off more than she can chew?

Author's note: Yes, these two suck. I don't know what I was thinking when I wrote them. They're included here only because they work chronologically. But the good news is, the next one is where it starts getting better :-)

SMACKDOWN! JANUARY 18TH, 2001

Angel was still in hospital on Smackdown, where Michael Cole and King announced that she was improving and would be able to leave hospital soon.

The Hardyz and Lita had a match against the Acolytes and Jacqueline. Matt and Jeff argued over tags and who was legal man. No one thought much of it. They were brothers, after all.

THE ROYAL RUMBLE, JANUARY 21ST, 2001

On Sunday at the Royal Rumble, Angel surprised everyone by accompanying Jeff Hardy, who had drawn number one, to the ring. She looked a little sore and had a plaster covering the stitches above her left eye but was fine enough to help Jeff with his dance/gyrating entrance. Angel was joined at ringside two minutes later by Lita, who was accompanying Matt. They both cheered the Boyz on as they eliminated Bull Buchanan and then Faarooq, but they eliminated each other before they could dispose of the celebrity entrant, Drew Carey. Angel and Lita tried to make peace between them in the locker room, but it was an uneasy truce to say the least.

Earlier in the night, Chyna's return was cut short when she re-injured her neck and was left paralyzed.

Angel watched the rest of the Rumble and, each time a new member of RTC appeared, she vowed they would pay – even if she had to stick around until it happened.

*******************************************************************************************


	4. A New Holly?

Title: A New Holly?

Rating: PG-13 for violence

Spoilers: 1/22/01

Disclaimers: I don't own Lita, the Hardyz, the APA, RTC or the Holly cousins and never have, much the pity

Summary: When it comes to the RTC, Angel refuses to lie down

Author's note: This is where it starts to be real fan fic, and also where I write it so it's directly related to what has been happening. The first entries above weren't really based on anything

RAW IS WAR, JANUARY 22ND, 2001

The next night, Angel drove her hire car to the Cajun Dome, where she found Matt Hardy and Lita already in the locker room.

"Yeah, maybe," Matt was saying. "But I still think I could've won it if I didn't have to baby-sit my kid brother." He looked up warily from tying his boots, having heard someone enter. "Oh, hey, Angel. I thought you were Jeff."

Lita spun around and grinned at her cousin. "Ange! How's your head?"

Angel absently fingered the plaster over her left eyebrow. "Doing better. Where _is_ Jeff?"

Matt bent down and started on his other boot. "You know what? I really don't give a crap."

At that moment the door flew open and Jeff stormed in. He stopped about three feet away, dumped his sports bag and eyed them accusingly.

"Thanks so much for the ride, guys."

Matt looked up and feigned innocence. "I thought you were riding with Angel."

Angel looked worried from one to the other. "I would've…"

Jeff stopped her with a raised hand. "It's okay. I know. You're not the jerk here. He is."

Matt slowly rose to his feet. "Care to repeat that, punk?"

"What? You got hearing problems now?" Jeff balled his fists as they advanced on each other.

"I'll be able to hear my fist hitting your face just fine."

"Oh, really?"

"Cut it out!" Lita stepped up between them the second before they came to blows. "I mean it, you guys. You're supposed to be a team." Matt and Jeff backed off but continued to glare at each other over Lita's head. "You guys have a match against the Acolytes tonight. They already beat you on Smackdown and after you eliminated Faarooq last night, do you really think they're going to go easy on you? You have to be partners, a hundred per cent."

Matt looked down at Lita, then back at Jeff, before nodding slowly. He held out his hands, fingers curled under. Still staring intensely, Jeff shrugged and touched fists with his brother. Without another word, he picked up his sports bag and retreated to another part of the locker room to get ready. Matt watched him for a few seconds, then turned back to his second boot. Lita stepped over to where Angel was standing.

"I don't know what's gotten into them lately," she sighed, shaking her head.

Angel smiled comfortingly. "They're brothers, Li."

"Yeah, I suppose. Still, I have a bad feeling about tonight. We have the Acolytes again and they're so big you never know what might happen, especially with Matt and Jeff not on the same page. I mean, you already got hit once."

Angel raised her eyebrows. "You want me to stay back here tonight?"

"Is that cool?"

Angel nodded. "Yeah, sure. I'll go find out who's facing RTC tonight, let them know I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay. But be careful. There are all kinds of crazy people lurking around here."

"I will. Good luck, Lita," she finished, eyeing Matt and Jeff.

"You too." 

Angel started off.

"Oh, Ange? I think it's the Hollys. You might want to check that out first."

Angel smiled. "Thanks. See you."

* * * *

In the ring, Matt and Jeff's war went from bad to worse as Jeff pulled blind tags and Matt stepped out of the Poetry in Motion. Eventually they forgot who was legal man, allowing Faarooq to use his Dominator and pin Jeff for the win. Lita had no end of trouble keeping her friends from battling each other on the way back to the locker room. But by then, Angel was long gone. She'd entered another room to find three blondes. The shorter of the two men was giving the woman a pep talk while the other man paced restlessly.

"…But don't you worry about it, Moll. You deserve that title. And you know why?"

"Why, cousin Crash?"

"Because you're a Holly."

"That's right. And tonight I'm going to beat that little weasel and then…" She looked up and saw that she and her cousins weren't alone. "Can we help y'all with something?"

"I take it that you're the Holly cousins?" Angel asked.

Just then a hand shot through the air and grabbed her around the throat. Angel felt herself being lifted off her feet as the pacer glared menacingly. "Who the hell wants to know?"

Angel spluttered and writhed as the female cousin got to her feet and shoved the guy who was holding Angel. "Hardcore, let her down. She weren't doin' no harm."

Hardcore lowered Angel to her feet and released her. She warily touched her neck. "I don't want to cause any trouble."

The small blonde woman smiled. "No, it's fine. He's just sore 'cause he doesn't have a match tonight." She stuck out her hand. "I'm Molly Holly and these here are my cousins Hardcore and Crash. You're the girl who's been hanging around Lita and those Hardys, right? I like them. They're good people. Kind of crazy though."

Angel stared at her. Just who were the crazy ones? "Right. I'm Angel Torres."

Molly beamed. "See, Hardcore? We're all friends now. What brings you here, Angel?"

"I heard you have a title shot against Ivory tonight."

"That's right, I do. And you know what? Not only will I beat her, I'll also teach her how to shut that big fat mouth of hers."

Angel smiled. "I bet you will. Anyway, I came here to offer my services. I don't know if you saw what that Steven Richards did to me last week, but let me just say that if you're against RTC you're fine with me. If you need a valet, anything at all, I'm your man…so to speak."

Molly smiled. "Well, Crash was going to be my escort but the more the merrier, that's what I always say."

"Great." Angel smiled back, then examined the Hollys' outfits. "Hey Crash, do you know where I can find one of those shirts?"

* * * *

After entering the ring, Ivory continued to explain exactly how immoral Chyna was. 

Backstage and listening to her, Angel felt sick to her stomach. She narrowed her eyes and handed Molly a microphone. 

"Kick her ass."

Molly grinned. "This is going to be great!"

Together, Angel, Molly and Crash started out to the ring as the Hollys' entrance music played. Ivory looked down to see who'd interrupted her speech.

Molly stood in the center of the platform, flanked on one side by Crash and on the other by Angel. The two of them were dressed similarly in WWF Attitude tops, but Angels had been changed into a tank top and was tied above her belly button. Together, she and Crash looked like Molly's small but tough bodyguards.

As Molly spoke, Angel looked up into the ring and her eyes locked with Steven Richards'. He returned her glare, knowing exactly who she was.

Before Angel even knew it, the Holly cousins had started to run down the ramp and she had to sprint in order to keep up. She and Crash saw Molly safely into the ring as Steven climbed out.

"Go Molly," Angel murmured as her new friend started working on Ivory's arm.

She felt a tap on her shoulder and heard Crash whisper. "Look over there." Her gaze traveled to where he was pointing and found that Richards was on the move. 

"Here's what I think we should do," Crash continued.

Angel listened to him and nodded. Crouching down, she traveled quickly around the ring. 

The second Steven Richards tried to interfere, Crash pulled him down from the apron. Angel grabbed him from behind as Crash punched him over and over.

"How do you like that, you bastard?" Angel sneered in his ear. But Steven was stronger than he looked and she was having trouble keeping her grip. As Crash wound up for about his tenth punch, Richards broke free and ducked, causing Crash to connect with Angel's jaw. Luckily, her back was already pressed against the ring so she didn't fall. 

"Oh man, sorry," Crash said. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Angel replied, clutching her jaw and trying to shake her daze.

"Where'd he get to?" Crash asked, but by the time they had their answer it was too late. Steven had already climbed the apron and pushed Molly from the turnbuckle, causing her to tumble to the canvas. Ivory somehow got the cover and the pinfall, remaining the Women's Champion. Crash and Angel raced after Richards but he quickly grabbed Ivory and they made their escape. Angel watched with the Hollys from inside the ring, shaking her head.

"What happened, you guys?" Molly asked. "I thought you were going to stop the screwjob."

Angel shrugged. "I knew Richards was a slimy bastard, I just didn't know just how slippery he was as well. We'll get them next time."

Molly grinned. "You bet."

The three of them started up the ramp.

"Sorry about your face, Angel," Crash said. "It wouldn't have happened if he'd just held still while I hit him."

"It's okay, Crash. It's not your fault. And he'll pay, don't worry about that."

*************************************************************************************************************************


	5. Matt vs Jeff

Title: Matt vs Jeff

Rating: PG-13 for violence, alcohol consumption and the horrors of anti-establishment music ;-P

Spoilers: For the date given

Disclaimer: I don't own any WWF superstars, Rage Against The Machine or The Osmonds. Lyrics used without permission.

Summary: Could an ongoing disagreement break up one of the greatest tag teams of all time? 

SMACKDOWN! JANUARY 25TH, 2001

On Smackdown, Angel ran into Jeff Hardy just outside the locker room. He'd set up a steel folding chair in the hallway and was listening to a CD player while bandaging up his left arm. Angel had to wave a hand in front of his face to get him to notice her. He looked up and half-smiled, removing his earphones. 

"Hey, Angel."

Angel watched him bandage his arm with a look of concern on her face. "Are you injured?"

Jeff shook his head and started to pull on his arm guards. "Precaution. I've had trouble with that one the past few months."

Angel nodded knowingly, touching her bruised chin.

Jeff laughed. "You got slugged by Crash Holly and you bruised?"

"Hey, he's stronger than he looks. You know, I stopped by your room to see if you needed a ride, but I guess you'd already left."

"Yeah, I caught a ride with Chris Jericho. Thanks, though, Angel. It's good to know someone cares."

"Anytime," Angel smiled, watching Jeff adjusting his full arm gear. "So, who have you got tonight?"

"Acolytes," Jeff replied.

"Again?" Angel cried. "How many times do they have to…?"

"Careful," Jeff cut in.

"…Face you. I was going to say 'face you'."

Jeff smiled knowingly. "Right. Anyway, 'we' are not facing 'them'. Matt's not my partner tonight."

"He's not? Then who is?"

"Bradshaw. And no, I'm not thrilled about it, but right now anyone's better than Matt."

Angel frowned. "Jeff, what's going on with you and Matt lately?"

Jeff shrugged. "Matt just gets like this sometimes. Don't worry, it'll probably work itself out soon enough. Either that or I'll kill him." He gave a twisted little smile and pulled his earphones back on. "Inspirational music," he said, nodding up at Angel.

Angel grabbed the earphone from him and put them on her own ears. "Rage Against The Machine. Good inspiration, Jeff." She gave his shoulder a comforting squeeze and, feeling less than comfortable herself, entered the locker room.

* * * *

The room was silent. Matt was getting ready while Lita sat stiffly, arms folded, a truly pissed-off expression on her face.

"Um, hi guys," Angel said uncertainly.

Lita still stared straight ahead as her leg started shaking. She looked about ready to snap.

"Hi Angel," Matt said sullenly. "Say, is my retarded little brother still sitting out there all on his own?"

Before Angel could reply, Lita was on her feet and bearing down on Matt, eyes blazing. "That is enough! Matt, do everyone a favor and keep your mouth closed. I've just had enough, okay? You and Jeff are both acting like children and it's time it stopped. So, you go into your tag match tonight and settle your differences in the ring and then I want everything back to normal or I will not be held responsible for what I'll do. You hear me?"

Matt just frowned and nodded.

"Good." Lita left him alone, grabbed Angel's wrist and led her to another corner of the room. "I am so sorry about that. You're supposed to be on vacation, you shouldn't have to put up with this crap."

Angel hugged her cousin. "Are you okay, Li?"

Lita pulled away and shrugged. "Don't know. I'm just sick of being stuck in the middle. You must feel the same and you don't even know the guys. They're as bad as each other. I mean, you've seen it. Matt'll say something stupid and Jeff will retaliate and then they'll either fight or Jeff'll storm off somewhere." She exhaled loudly and continued. "And then while I'm trying to get Matt to cool it, you probably feel like you need to find Jeff and see if he's okay. So the next time Matt sees you he lays into you about taking Jeff's side and so on and so on. I'm so sorry to put you in the middle like this, Ange."

Angel just hugged her again. "Are you going to be at ringside?"

Lita shook her head. "No, me and Jackie are going to watch on the big TV backstage. You're welcome to join us, supposing Jackie's in a better mood than I am about this whole thing."

Just then they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Giving Matt a long look, Lita went to answer it. 

"Ange," she called. "It's Molly."

"Hey Angel," Molly cried, entering the room. "Hardcore and Crash have a tag match against Bull Buchanan and the Goodfather tonight. I just know Steven and Ivory are both going to be there. Do you want to come even things up a little?"

Angel looked over at Lita.

Lita smiled for the first time that night. "Well, since you seem to have been made an honorary Holly, you should definitely go."

"Great!" Molly cried, clapping her hands and leading Angel from the room. "Okay, now all we have to do is work out how to help Hardcore and Crash win."

* * * *

Angel and the three Hollys could hear the Alabama crowd booing. Their entrance was only moments away. Hardcore flexed his muscles and smiled. "It's good to be home."

Their music started and they began their walk with Crash and Hardcore leading, Molly behind Crash and Angel behind Hardcore. Both Crash and Hardcore wore their normal trunks while Molly and Angel both wore pink tops with black pants. Molly wore a halter-top while Angel had a bikini. With her height and dark hair, Angel looked more like she was Hardcore's girlfriend than a real Holly, but it didn't matter. So long as the four of them were against Right To Censor, they were a team.

"Making their way to the ring, accompanied by Molly Holly and Angel Torres, at a combined weight of four hundred sixty-two pounds, from Mobile, Alabama, Hardcore and Crash Holly!"

Angel stood with Molly as Crash started things off in the normal fashion with Bull Buchanan. He got a few good hits in and Molly jumped up and down, clapping her hands, as Angel cried, "Go Crash!" She and Molly tried to keep one eye on the action and the other on Steven and Ivory. At one stage Steven climbed onto the apron and Angel started towards him, but she needn't have bothered. Hardcore, who was legal man at the time, spotted him and decked him with a strong right to the face.

"Yeah! Hardcore!" Angel cried.

Soon after that, Crash and the Goodfather fell from the ring, fighting. Angel prepared to go help him but Molly stopped her. "Don't worry, Crash will be fine. Worry about those other two."

As if on cue, Ivory appeared in the ring, title belt in hand. She raced towards Hardcore but wasn't watching properly and clocked Bull Buchanan instead. Both Molly and Angel chased after Ivory as Hardcore scored the drop kick on a dazed Buchanan, made the cover and got the three count.

Right To Censor ran off to lick their wounds as Angel and the Hollys high-fived each other in the ring. The war was far from over, but this little battle belonged to them.

* * * *

Angel was still in high spirits as she returned to the Hardys' locker room. She opened the door to total chaos. Rage Against The Machine blared from a small but powerful stereo and empty bottles and food wrappers littered the floor. Both Hardys were shirtless and Jeff seemed to be doing an interpretive dance while Matt and Lita talked in the corner.

"Angel!" Jeff shouted over the music. "Join the party!"

Bewildered, Angel kept looking around the room. "I turn my back for a minute and the world's gone mad."

Somehow, Matt heard her. "No, just Jeff."

Angel smiled and turned the music down so she could hear herself think, much to Jeff's disgust. "What happened?"

"My boys came through," Lita said happily. "They pulled a swift one on the Acolytes by getting them to fight each against each other, then they worked as a team to beat them both."

"Just as we planned," Matt said proudly.

"Plan? What plan?" Lita cried.

"Come on, Lita," Matt scolded her as he gripped her shoulder. "You know I love my baby brother."

From Jeff's makeshift dance floor came an off-key rendition of 'He Ain't Heavy'.

"…But I'm strong, strong enough to care. Oh, he ain't heavy, 'cause…"

Matt grinned and joined him for the next line. "…He's my brother!"

Lita rolled her eyes. "You guys, you're the Hardys, not the Osmonds."

But Matt and Jeff didn't care. Jeff had joined Matt in the corner where they hugged and continued their impromptu karaoke session as the music from the stereo threw them even further off key. 

"…The road is long, with many a winding turn, that leads…"

Angel watched them from a distance as Lita tried in vain to get them to stop. She smiled. The three of them were so tight and she had no doubt that Matt and Jeff knew Lita much better than Angel did, despite being her cousin. Angel put her hand to her chin. Despite the fact it had happened three days ago it still hurt like a bastard and her head tingled where the stitches had been. Lita sure did lead a strange life – where home was a similar but different hotel room nearly every night and family consisted of the few friends you managed to keep from double crossing you. Lita and the Hardys were family. Angel was an outsider and, despite her cousin's happiness and the small amount of retribution she felt at the win over RTC, she'd never felt more alone.

"Angel! You want a drink?" Jeff finally snapped her out of her daze.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. You got any water?"

"Sure. Incoming!" 

Suddenly a bottle of water was flying towards he head. She reached up and somehow caught it.

"Good one!" Jeff cried. "Oh, I love this song! Come on, Angel. Show all of us your moves." He turned the music up and looked at her expectantly.

Against her better judgement, Angel joined Jeff on his dance floor.

"All hell can't stop us now!" Jeff shouted along with the music. He'd clearly been drinking something stronger than water. At the end of a few songs Angel, being no athlete, was pooped. She found her water and took a few refreshing gulps, then turned back around, only to be faced with the sight of Matt and Lita making out in the corner. Her mouth dropped open. Although she'd suspected, it was still a shock.

She felt Jeff grab her clumsily. "Come on, Angel, the next one's started." When he realized she wasn't moving he followed her gaze. "Huh. They must be real drunk. They usually don't do that in front of me, especially when we're at an arena." He looked down at Angel. "So, we dancin' or what?"

Angel smiled but the thought of 'dancing' to another Rage song was less than appealing. "Jeff, do you think they'll notice if we go?"

"No. Why, where we going?"

"To find a real party with real music. You up for it?"

"Hell yeah. One thing though." And with that he removed the bottle from Angel's hand and replaced it with a beer. "Let's go."

Angel found Jeff's sports bag and hoisted it onto her shoulder. "We might be needing this."

So they left Matt and Lita in peace, well, if you count Rage Against The Machine still playing at a million decibels as peaceful.

Jeff was even drunker than Angel had thought. He was having a bit of trouble walking, leaning on Angel as he sang a medley of Rage songs and 'He Ain't Heavy'.

"How many have you had, Jeff?"

"Five, no, six."

Angel concluded that for a man of his build and probable metabolism, Jeff Hardy was a very cheap drunk. 

Up ahead someone about Jeff's height with a mane of golden hair appeared.

"Hey, Chris," Jeff called. "Did you win?"

The blonde man scowled. "No, junior, I did not win. I did, however, get to have the life half squeezed out of me by a 500 pound behemoth."

"Bummer. You wanna come party with me and Angel?"

The blonde guy gave him a funny look. "Junior, if I'd known you were a Kirk Angel fan do you really think I'd have let you near my car earlier?"

"No, not Kirk. Just Angel," Jeff tried to explain, but the other man was already past them and walking away.

"Sober up, Hardy," he called over his shoulder.

"Angel?"

"Yeah, Jeff?"

"Where are we going to find a party? We're in Mobile."

"You forget, Jeff. I'm a Holly now."

They finally reached the right locker room and Angel knocked.

Hardcore opened the door. "Are you alone?"

"No, I brought Jeff."

Hardcore passed a glance over Jeff. "Okay."

"Hi Hollys," Jeff said cheerfully as he and Angel entered the room.

"Is that boy okay?" Hardcore asked.

"He's fine, but he and Matt had a big win tonight so I thought we could go celebrate together. And if anyone knows where the fun's at in this town it'd be Alabama's finest family."

"You got that right," Molly piped up.

Hardcore nodded, considering it. "Alright. But that boy's gonna need a shirt."

Angel smiled to herself as she rifled through Jeff's bag, looking for a shirt. What had she been thinking? Less than two weeks after she'd begun her journey in search of the cousin she'd always idolized and here she was, with members of two completely exclusive groups, both welcoming her as one of their own. She might not have been a Hardy or a Holly, but in some strange way she belonged.

*******************************************************************************************


	6. Plans

Title: Plans

Rating: PG-13 for minor coarse language

Spoilers: Minor Heat spoilers for the date given.

Summary: Angel's out of money, but still vows revenge even though she's in now way a wrestler. What she needs is a plan.

Author's note: Thanks for the reviews, guys. It made me decide to post more. Trust me, there's a bunch of this story waiting on my hard drive ready for posting and even more that I haven't typed up yet. It's been a real labour of love for me. 

SUNDAY NIGHT HEAT, JANUARY 28TH, 2001

By the time Sunday rolled around Lita and the Hardyz were informed that they had the night off, so they spent the morning at the hotel gym before returning to the comfort of their rooms. Matt and Jeff decided to go sightseeing while Angel and Lita watched movies, before switching over to MTV for Heat.

"This is the show you busted in on," Lita explained.

Angel nodded. "I remember that guy. He kept getting my name wrong."

Lita smiled. "Yeah, that's Tazz."

"Hey, Li, can I ask you a question?" Angel wondered as the first match (between 'The One' Billy Gunn and Albert) started.

"Sure."

"How long have you been seeing Matt?"

Lita turned to look at her cousin. "Did Jeff…?"

"No. Let's just say you guys were partying pretty hard after Smackdown."

Lita's eyes widened as she remembered. "We've been together a while now – nearly as long as I've been hanging with the guys. I'm sorry I didn't tell you straight out, but you've got to realize that when you're in this business relationships aren't easy. If you date someone outside there's the risk of groupies, plus long stints on the road, apart." She sighed. "But in some ways that's preferable to dating someone in the business. That's a whole different set of problems. You could be pitted against each other in a mixed tag or worse, if the wrong people find out they can use it against you. You know, attack me to get to Matt. That's why we keep it quiet." She gave a little laugh. "So, if anyone asks, Matt is my best friend, as is Jeff. Okay?"

Angel nodded and smiled. "That works for me."

Lita rolled over and sat up. "Speaking of my boys, what happened between you and Jeff the other night?"

"What? Nothing happened."

Lita grinned. "Come on, Ange. I don't buy that. I asked Jeff the same question but he wasn't talking. That's got to mean something."

"Lita, I don't think Jeff would even remember, he was so drunk."

"Okay, so where did you end up? When me and Matt looked you were gone and we didn't see either of you until late afternoon on Friday."

"We went party-hopping with the Hollys. Eventually we ended up at Hardcore's place and Jeff passed out on the couch while the rest of us played pool. Well, until Hardcore and Crash started arguing over whose shot it was. It got pretty ugly – pool cues, trophies, a lamp…"

"So, nothing happened at all?" Lita cut her off.

"Lita, Jeff was totally pissed. I kind of like my men to remember me in the morning."

"That's too bad," Lita said, eyes shining. "'Cause Jeff's really into you."

Angel didn't think much of it. Lita had always been like that. Just before Angel's family had left Florida, Lita had tried to set her up with Johnny Sanchez. He was Angel's age, ten, and actually did not think Angel was cute, as fifteen-year-old Lita had said. In fact, he still thought girls had cooties. It hadn't been pretty.

"I'm not looking for romance, Lita. I'm supposed to be on vacation."

Lita turned serious. "Not that I want to get rid of you, Angel, it's great having you here, but do you have any idea when you'll be going home?"

"After I put that bitch Steven Richards in hospital," Angel replied seriously. "Speak of the devil," she scowled as he appeared on TV and launched a tirade against senseless violence. "Oh, shut up. Like you don't hit people with ring bells given half a chance."

Lita put a comforting hand on her cousin's shoulder. "Angel, you chose the wrong person to pick a fight with. He's almost untouchable."

"I don't care. Someday, Lita…"

They watched quietly as Steven was interrupted midstream by a man wielding a kendo stick. Steven asked for the stick and the man handed it over, only to attack him moments later with two smaller sticks.

Angel cheered. "I wish I could've done that. Who is that guy?"  
Lita was also amused. "Steve Blackman. Speaking of people you don't want to fight with."

Angel couldn't wipe the smile of her face. "That was awesome. I wish I could do that."

But Lita was back in reflective mode. "Angel, how's your money situation?"

"Pretty drastic, I'm afraid. But I don't care. I'll get a job waitressing or something."

"I could put a good word in for you with the McMahons," Lita offered. "Not that it'd do much good. As far as I know there are only two ways to get a contract. The first is to sleep with the boss but since Trish Stratus seems to have that covered we'll have to move on to Plan B."

"And that is?"

"Find someone to train you and get in the hard way – through talent."

"Lita, I can't do that. The things you do. I could never…"

"Oh, great. It's my ex." Lita's attention was focused back on the TV.

"The guy with the doll head?"

"No, that's Al Snow. The other guy, the redhead. His name's Essa Rios. Kick his ass, Al."

Angel watched as Essa Rios performed a series of acrobatic moves in the ring. "I see he gave you some of his moves."

"Yeah, that's not all he gave me," Lita murmured bitterly. "I'll tell you about it someday. Right now we have to think of someone who can train you. That's it! Al Snow!"

"The head guy?" Angel asked dubiously.

"You said you wanted to be like Blackman, right? Well, Al Snow trained Blackman. Granted, he already knew all that martial arts stuff, but Snow taught him to be a wrestler."

"Well, if you think it'll work, tomorrow I'll go find that Snow guy and get him to teach me everything he knows."

Lita grinned. "This is so exciting!"

They cheered together as Al Snow scored the pinfall on Essa.

"It's going to take me a while to get good enough for a contract, isn't it?" Angel asked, suddenly worried.

Lita nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, probably."

"Then I'm still almost out of money."

Lita just kept nodding. "I could loan you some, that's okay, Ange."

"No, no, Lita. I think I have a better idea. I'll rent myself out as a valet."

"Bad idea."

"Bad?" Angel cried. "Bad, how? It's perfect, Li. I'll have money, I'll still be able to stick around you, and Al Snow if he'll teach me."

"Angel, it's not a safe environment. There are people around who'll hurt you just because of who you are. You might not even see it coming."

"I can take care of myself, Lita. And I can count on you, Matt and Jeff to have my back, right?"

"Of course, but…"

"Then, it's settled," Angel said firmly. "It's the only way."

Lita sighed. "You really want to hurt Steven Richards, don't you?"

"More than anything. He hurt me, Lita. He made me spend four days in hospital on my damn vacation. He showed no remorse at all. By the time I'm done with him you can bet he'll be remorseful. He'll be the most sorry he's ever been in his worthless, hypocritical life."

Lita stared at her and a smile slowly spread across her face. "I knew you were my favorite cousin for a reason."

*******************************************************************************************


	7. A New Role

Title: A New Role

Rating: PG-13 for minor language and some violence

Spoilers: Oh, a whole bunch, plus some direct dialogue taken from the announcers.

Disclaimer: I own a few action figures that bear the likeness of some WWF superstars (particularly Jeff, I have like five of him), but I don't own the people themselves.

Summary: Would you get a guy who talks to a doll head to train you in the art of revenge?

RAW IS WAR, JANUARY 29TH, 2001

"You okay with that end?" Jeff called over his shoulder. He was carrying the front end of a folding table while Angel had the back.

"Well, I knew I had to start working my arms," Angel called back.

"Just pray we don't run into the Dudleyz. They'd as soon put us through this table as offer to help carry it. Well, we made it."

They put the table down and Angel looked around. "A janitor's closet?"

"Yeah. We used to have a commissioner, Mick Foley, who'd move his office around every week to the strangest places. That's where I got the idea. It's small, but big enough for you to set up shop and me, Matt and Lita are just in here if you need help." He tapped the wall near the closet.

Angel examined her office. It was small; there'd be just enough room for a folding chair if they set the table up in the hallway but, like Jeff had said, how much space did she really need?

"Well," she said, putting her hands on her hips. "I guess this is home."

"That reminds me. We got you some stuff. I'll go get it." He walked into the next room while Angel unzipped her backpack and took out the signs she'd made. 'Valet for rent. All offers considered.'

Jeff returned soon with a folding chair and a full WWF Attitude gym bag, which he placed carefully on the table. "The bag's from me. Every superstar has to have one of those bags."

Angel grinned. She liked the sound of the word 'superstar'. She quickly opened the bag to see what else was in there. At the top she found a small towel and water bottle. "From me as well," Jeff confirmed. "Boring but necessary. Here." He took the bag from her as if she hadn't been looking through it fast enough. "And also from me is this." He held out a large desk plate with 'Angel Torres' written on it.

"That is so cool!" Angel grinned, running her hand over the letters. "You didn't have to get me anything…"

"But there's more," Jeff replied, pulling out a tiny battery powered portable television. "This is mine. I need it back, but you can use it during shows so you can stay here and still keep an eye on things."

Angel felt like crying at his kindness. "This is awesome, Jeff. Thank you so much."

"My pleasure," Jeff replied in his slight southern drawl. "But if you go valet for someone, just bring that TV into the locker room first, okay? I'd hate to lose it. Anyway, Matt and Lita got you some stuff, too. This is from Matt." He gave her a handful of pens and a very official-looking appointment book. "Turn to the notes section."

"This is excellent," Angel said, flipping through the book. She found the section Jeff had told her about. There, in Matt's unbearably neat writing, was an alphabetical list of the superstars along with their eligibility as a valet client.

"Whoa," Angel murmured as she skimmed page after page of Matt's advice.

"I know. That's my brother for you. It should be useful, though."

"Definitely," Angel agreed. "You said there was something from Lita?"

"Yes," Jeff replied. "It's the best one of all. He handed her the bag so she could see for herself and she pulled out a pair of brand new wrestling boots. "Oh, you're kidding. Jeff, Lita doesn't even have a pair of these herself!"

"I know, but she knows you're serious about doing this and it'll probably be a while before you can afford a pair of your own."

Angel wiped a tear from her eye. "Wow, I…I have to go thank her." 

Jeff watched her go, then calmly repacked the bag and followed her.

"You guys are the greatest!" Angel was still gushing when he arrived. "I don't know what to say."

Lita smiled. "Well, how about you, say, go find your new coach and see if he'll have you. You could get a whole day of training in and still be back in time to valet."

Angel nodded. "Yeah, yeah, that's what I'll do." She hugged Lita and kissed Matt and Jeff on the cheek before grabbing her new bag from Jeff. "Thanks so much, guys. I'll see you later."

* * * *

It had taken her a while to find it but she was finally there. In a curiously dark area of the arena stood a locker room with the names Blackman/Snow on the door. Realizing that she now didn't have Lita, Matt or Jeff for protection, Angel took a deep breath and knocked. 

The door opened slightly and a mannequin head seemed to peer around it at Angel. It looked her up and down as a voice traveled from behind the door.

"Five foot nine. Female. Black hair. Identity unknown. Enter at your own risk."

'Well, that wasn't half creepy,' Angel thought as she pushed the door open.

She didn't quite know what she'd been expecting, but it definitely wasn't a well lit and almost spotless locker room, identical to the one used by Lita and the Hardyz. There were a few mats on the floor and a punching bag was rigged up at one wall. The guy with the sticks from Heat, Blackman, was working on the bag while the other guy held his mannequin head and stared at Angel expectantly.

"Hi," she said uncertainly. "I'm Angel Torres and…"

"One moment," said Al before looking down at the head. He looked up again. "Head says that's a very pretty name."

"Uh, thank you," Angel replied, trying to regain her composure.

"You're welcome," Al grinned. "No, Head, I don't know what she's doing here either but I'm sure she'll tell us if you quit interrupting." He looked back at Angel. "I'm sorry about that. Sometimes Head can be very rude. Go on."

"Okay, I'm here because I want to learn to wrestle and I want you to teach me."

Behind them, Blackman stopped pounding the punching bag. "You're kidding, right?"

Al was talking to Head again. "No, she's not just a wrestling groupie. Are you?"

"No," Angel shook her head. "I'm Lita's cousin. She's the one who said I should talk to you."

"Ah yes, Lita. Five foot seven. Female. Red hair. Identity – former Women's Champion."

"Yeah, that's her. So, will you do it?"

Al looked at Head, then over at Blackman.

"Don't think I'm getting involved in this."

Al held Head up to his ear and nodded a few times. "That's a great idea, don't you think, Angel?"

Bewildered, Angel blinked. "Um, I didn't quite hear…"

"We think that you should look after Head today and tonight. Tomorrow, if Head likes you, I'll train you. Sound fair?"

Angel stared at the head. What was she getting herself into? "Okay. Sounds fair. There's just one thing. I don't have much money."

Al waved her concerns away. "If I train you, we'll think of something, okay?" He carefully handed over Head. "You two have fun today."

As Angel left the room with Head tucked under her arm she heard Blackman speak. "Al, if you're responsible for that girl needing therapy, I don't know that I can remain your friend."

* * * *

Angel sat quietly in her office, braiding and unbraiding Head's hair. She didn't know for sure but, from the look of the face, Head seemed to be a she – and what she wouldn't want pretty hair?

If you said that Angel was bored you'd be right on the money. Despite her prime position in the hallway, no one had stopped to even inquire about her business. In fact, the only people she'd seen at all were the Hardyz and Lita, who'd brought her some dinner, but even that seemed like hours ago. It was now almost show time and the only valet job Angel had was for Lita in her number one contender's match for the Women's Title.

Angel sighed loudly and returned Head to her place on the end of the desk.

"Cheer up, sunshine. There's no need to be sad now one half of the five time tag team champions is here."

Angel looked up at the most devastating smile she'd ever seen. It took her a moment to tear her eyes away from his teeth and she discovered that the rest of the package was worth looking at, too. He was tall with long blonde hair and he wore sunglasses, an open Hawaiian shirt revealing an outstanding set of abs, and the perfect pair of leather pants. Nice, very nice. But Angel was at work and she had to be professional. 

"Can I ask your name?" she questioned, reaching for her appointment book and opening to Matt's notes.

"Let's just say I have the edge over my totally sucktacular opponents."

If there was one thing Angel had learned so far, it was that wrestlers talked cryptically. She skimmed the list and found what she was looking for. Edge.

"Hey, did you steal this from that total nut job Al Snow?" Edge asked, spotting Head.

"Something like that," Angel replied as she read Matt's words.

"Dudette, may I just say that totally reeks of awesomeness. My brother Christian and I have so been trying to do that forever. Hey, you got my grade school report cards in there? What's that you're reading?"

"Just some friendly advice."

"So, what's it say? No, let me guess. Edge totally reeks of awesomeness. He is so the fightingest, smartest and most photogenic wrestler in the WWF and if you get to talk to him for five minutes you are one lucky ducky."

"That's not quite what it says."

"It's not?" Edge asked, offended as he looked down to see for himself. "Okay, let me try again. It says Matt Hardy is a total toolshed and deserves to get beaten by Edge at his soonest convenience."

"I'm sorry, Edge. It says I shouldn't even be talking to you."

"Well, do you always do what those dorks tell you?" Edge asked, sitting himself on the table.

Angel shrugged. "You have to trust someone."

"No way. Here this one guy has this totally truebular motto. DTA. Don't trust anyone. You should look into it."

"I'm sorry, Edge. I can't be your valet."

"Valet? Cool your warrior princess, Xena. I don't need a valet. I only wanted to ask your heinously judgmental self what you're doing after the show. You see, me, Christian and Kurt Angle totally rock the party that rocks the body. Well, me and Christian do. Kurtski usually just has his milk and gets his gold medal winning self a good night's sleep. So, how about it? Or do those reekazoids control you outside the building, too?"

"Edge, you have about ten seconds to leave her alone and get out of my sight," Jeff Hardy announced before Angel could answer.

Edge leaned over Angel. "Look, your dad's here." He turned to Jeff. "Or what, dorkmobile?" he asked, jumping to his feet.

"Or you'll be explaining to your dentist how you lost that perfect smile of yours. Five seconds."

"Hardy, I think you're so forgetting that without ropes and turnbuckles you totally reek of sucktitude."

"Time's up." Jeff rushed at Edge, who stood his ground, ready for a spear. But, just as Edge moved, Jeff changed his course, jumping onto the table then catching Edge with a missile drop kick. They fell to the ground with Jeff punching Edge's head. 

Angel climbed over the table and tried to separate them, but it wasn't until Matt and Lita arrived to see what was going on that the fight was over. Lita and Angel held Jeff while Matt pulled Edge away and roughly shoved him. "Get the hell out of here."

Edge gave a little shove back and picked up his sunglasses, which had fallen off in the fight.

"What's wrong with you, Hardy?" Edge asked, putting his glasses back on. "You double your dose of psycho pills this morning?"

"I warned you," Jeff scowled quietly.

"Yeah, well, don't your worry your pretty head, Rainbow Brite. I wouldn't dream of talking to your girlfriend again." He shifted his gaze to Angel. "I don't know what you see in that reekface." With that, he turned and walked painfully down the hall.

When Edge had gone, Angel let Jeff go and silently climbed back into her office.

Jeff walked over to her and put his palms down on the table. "Are you okay, Angel?"

"Yes, I'm fine, Jeff. Just like I was fine before you arrived to 'save' me."

Jeff frowned. "You don't know that guy. He might seem nice enough but he'll stab you in the back as soon as look at you."

"You guys tell me that about a lot of people but you all fail to realize that I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself."

"Angel, we just don't want you to get hurt," Jeff tried to explain as Angel glared at him.

"Jeff, I've got it covered, okay?" He opened his mouth to argue but she cut him off. "I've got it covered."

In the end, Jeff was the one to break eye contact. He threw his hands in the air and retreated to the locker room. 

From inside the room, Angel could hear Matt chewing Jeff out.

"What were you thinking? We have a number one contender's match and you're picking fights? What's that about?"

"Fine! She snaps at me, you snap at me. Lita, you want a turn? I thought I was doing the right thing."

"Jeff." Lita's voice. "I think maybe you have to assess the situation before you jump in like that. What would have happened if Kurt Angle and Christian had showed up instead of me and Matt? You and Angel could both have been hurt."

Angel tuned out and was looking for something else to concentrate on, when her eyes focused on Head. She finished unwinding the braids. 

"Was I too hard on him, do you think? He was only trying to protect me." She paused and sighed. "You're right, I was fine. If I needed help I could have called for it…" She caught herself and frowned. "You," she said, pointing to Head. "Have to stop getting me to talk to you. It's just not healthy."

* * * *

The show had started. On Jeff's tiny TV, miniscule versions of Kurt Angle and The Rock were having a verbal altercation. The crowd was eating it up but Angel was too depressed to even concentrate properly. No one wanted a valet and Jeff had quickly disposed of the only person who had even stopped for a friendly chat. She heard footsteps in the hallway and looked up warily.

"Hi Blackman," she said gloomily.

Blackman gave her a nod and continued on his way. Behind him, Angel sighed loudly and returned her attention to the TV. Blackman stopped in his tracks and mirrored Angel's sigh. He watched her for a moment, making his decision. Finally, he spoke.

"Are you going to be my valet or not?"

Angel's eyes shot up and met his. "You want to hire me?"

"A lapse in judgment, maybe. Don't make me regret my decision."

Angel broke into a grin. She shoved the TV and appointment book into her bag with one hand and picked up Head with the other, as she clambered over her table.

"Thank you so much!" she spluttered. "Just…just two seconds, okay?" She burst into the locker room. "You guys, I have a job! I have to go." She almost threw the bag at Jeff. "See you."

"Angel," Lita called after her. "Who is it?"

"Watch the TV," Angel replied as she left the room.

"Be careful," Lita said to the closed door.

* * * *

"The following contest is scheduled for one fall. On his way to the ring, being accompanied by Angel Torres, from Annville, Pennsylvania, weighing in at 245 pounds, the Lethal Weapon, Steve Blackman."

Blackman raised his hands and hit his fighting sticks together as Angel walked next to him, carrying both Blackman's bag of 'toys' and Head. In her black pants and bikini top, and with her hair freshly spiked, she was a surprisingly good match for Blackman, and they got quite a pop as they walked down the ramp. Blackman handed her his fighting sticks and climbed into the ring, where he locked up immediately with his opponent, Val Venis.

Angel fixed the fighting sticks to her pants, in easy reach in case Blackman needed them, placed the bag at the bottom of the ramp, and made her way to Blackman's corner.

Venis may have been strong, but Blackman was fast. As he danced circles around Venis, Angel cheered him on, clapping as best she could with Head still in her grasp. 

"Go, Steve!"

She would have been lucky if Blackman had heard her at all for in Val's corner, screaming about the unacceptability of violence, stood Angel's enemies, Steven Richards and Ivory.

Richards climbed onto the apron so Blackman could hear him better, only to receive a punch in the face for his efforts.

"Yeah, Steve, hit him again!" Angel cried. Then she realized that, as Blackman's valet, she was supposed to stop RTC from interfering in the first place.

When Ivory leaned over the apron to give Blackman a piece of her mind, Angel was there, leaping like a monkey onto the ropes and catching the ref's attention, before disappearing just as quickly so that Ivory got the brunt of the ref's anger. Angel stood a whole ring length away and smiled sweetly at Ivory.

"Miss Angel, that kind of behavior is unacceptable, do you hear me? And that outfit, encouraging the objectification of…"

"Hey, Ivory. Shut the hell up."

Ivory's mouth dropped open and, mission accomplished, Angel returned to Blackman's corner.

But she couldn't do much about what happened next. Before the ref even knew what was going on, Val tossed Blackman to the floor and Richards started attacking him, leaving him in a crumpled heap. As Val Venis threw Blackman back into the ring, Angel felt her blood boil. Her hands tightened around Head and she suddenly remembered that it was there. It was almost as though Head was telling her, no, _begging_ her to hit Richards. And in that state she didn't need much convincing.

Over at the announce table, Jim Ross and Jerry 'The King' Lawler were complaining about Richards.

"That was a cheap shot by Steven Richards."

"It sure was. He looks pretty proud of himself over there."

"These RTC people think that if you don't believe as they do you're terminally wrong."

"Hey, look over there, JR. It's an Angel."

"Lita's cousin, Angel Torres. I don't know what her connection is with Al Snow, but she's been carrying that Head around since the start of this match."

"I don't know either, but I'll tell you this. That Steve Blackman isn't Mr. Personality but he must have done something right to get Angel as a valet. She's hot. I really like her."

"Well, King, name me a woman you don't like. Nice vertical suplex by Val Venis."

"Ivory. I don't like Ivory."

"That's true enough."

"Hey look, JR, she's coming our way. Hey, Angel, come over and sit by me."

"Sorry, King. I think she's focused on something else. Ooh! Whitesocks is down!"

"Ha! Did you see that? She just hit that jerk Steven with Al Snow's Head! JR, I wonder if she'll give me…"

"No, don't say it, King. What's this? Richards is back on his feet and – no – don't do that! Steven kick to the head and now Angel Torres is down. I don't think she's getting up, King."

"Do you think she's okay?"

"Oh, what the hell do you think? Back in the ring it looks like Steven's got Blackman by the leg, Val into the rollup and come on! That's not right! Right To Censor have stolen this one, King, and you have to ask, how much more does Angel have to provoke RTC? She's not a fighter. How much more can she take?"

"I don't know, but if she is crazy she's not the only one. Blackman is furious in there. He's taken down Val Venis and now he's starting on Richards. Woo hoo!"

"But what's this? Bull Buchanan and the Goodfather. All five members of Right To Censor are attacking Steve Blackman."

"He doesn't stand a chance."

"But look, King. It's Hardcore Holly."

"What the heck is he doing here?"

Angel shook the cobwebs from her head as, up in the ring, Hardcore Holly sprayed all the RTC members with a fire extinguisher. While they were recovering their sight, he jumped to the ground and grabbed Blackman's bag. He kept a kendo stick for himself and handed Blackman the nunchukas. Together, they cleaned house and then stared each other off. As JR said, "There's certainly no love lost between these two."

Keeping his eyes on Blackman, Hardcore jumped to the ground, just as Angel was climbing unsteadily to her feet. He found Head and tossed it to Blackman before he helped Angel up the ramp. 

Lita and the Hardyz met them in the hallway.

"Angel!" Lita cried. "We saw what happened. Are you okay?"

Angel was deathly pale and still seeing stars. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said, squinting.

"When I get my hands on that Steven Richards," Jeff muttered, clenching his fists.

"Get in line," Angel groaned. "I think I need to sit down." With that, she started to fall. Matt and Jeff caught her just before she hit the ground. As they and Lita fussed over Angel, Blackman and Hardcore stared at each other. Both men of few words, Blackman was the one to speak first.

"Bob, what the hell was that about?"

"Don't get me wrong, I don't like you and I don't give a damn how you like me, but you had two things on your side tonight. Firstly, you were against RTC and they can rot in hell for all I care. And second, you had that girl in your corner and she's become good friends with my cousin Molly. What cousin Molly wants, cousin Molly gets. When that girl got hurt, it meant I was on your side. But don't get worried, it more than likely won't be happening again."

Blackman glared after him as he walked off. He looked down to find that he was still carrying Head. He held it up to his face, then frowned and hurled it into the locker room.

* * * *

Angel was lying on the bench in the locker room, using Jeff's jacket as a pillow. In another corner of the room, Lita was talking to Matt.

"I told her it was a bad idea, Matt. I knew she'd get in trouble. And what happens in her very first match? If I'd known it was Blackman versus Val I never would have let her go."

Angel grabbed for Jeff's arm. "Jeff, do you think you should tell Lita that I can hear her?"

"She's just worried, Angel. We all are. I don't know, maybe you should stay away from Right To Censor from now on."

"Maybe I just shouldn't turn my back on Richards. I won't make that mistake again."

Jeff didn't want another argument so he changed the subject. "Do you need anything? I can get it for you."

"Yeah, Head. Where's Head? Did I leave her at ringside?"

"Her? It's a 'she' now?" Jeff asked, amused, as he retrieved Head from where it had fallen after being thrown by Blackman. "Angel, if you hadn't taken a kick to the skull just now I'd be seriously worried."

"Hey, Jeff Hardy," Matt called. "You ready to roll?"

Jeff nodded at his brother. "Are you going to be okay here?" he asked Angel as he handed Head over.

"I'll be fine. Kick some ass, okay?"

Jeff smiled. "You bet." He gave her hand a squeeze. "See you after we win."

"Angel…" Lita started.

"Go with them, Lita. I'll be fine here on my own."

"Are you sure?"

"Lita. They need you more than I do. Good luck, guys." She placed Head on the ground and picked up the TV. 

As they left, Matt patted Jeff on the back. "You okay, bro?"

Jeff got his sick little smile and nodded. "Bull and Goodfather. They might not be Steven but hey, close enough."

* * * *

Matt, Jeff and Lita stepped onto the stage, eyes focused on The Acolytes and Jackie. Right To Censor were yet to arrive. Just as Matt and Jeff entered the ring, Jackie launched a surprise attack on Lita. Lita was quick to fight back and the two of them took it to the ramp, punching, falling, rolling and scratching at each other.

Just when Jackie thought she had the upper hand she was attacked from behind. "Get off my cousin, bitch."

With two against one, Jackie had no chance. But, before Lita and Angel could inflict any real damage, a whole influx of refs separated them.

"You ladies are gone. Go back to your rooms, you're banned from ringside."

"Sister, you are going down!" Jackie cried.

"See you in the ring, Jackie," Lita shot back.

"Well, we showed her," Angel said as they returned to the locker room.

Lita turned on her cousin. "Angel, what were you thinking, flying in like that?"  
"She attacked you, Li. What was I supposed to do? Stay back here and say 'oh, she's kicking my cousin's head in. How nice for her'."

"Yes, that's exactly what you should've done. You're supposed to be lying down."

"I'm not an invalid, Li. And you know what? I'm going to valet for your match tonight, too."

"The hell you are."

"The hell I'm not."

"You got kicked in the head, Ange. Even if you're the strongest person in the world, that's gotta slow you down a little."

"You can't stop me, Lita."

"The hell I can't."  
"The hell you can."

Lita shook her head and picked up the TV. She switched it on and Angel looked over her shoulder to see Jeff score the Swanton Bomb and the pinfall on Bull Buchanan.

"Well, the night's not a total loss, then," Lita muttered.

Minutes later, Jeff and Matt returned. 

"Were you guys watching?" Matt asked. "We've got a shot at the titles on Smackdown Xtreme!"

"Yeah, we saw," Lita replied, trying to be genuine. "Congratulations, guys."

"Are you okay, Lita?" Matt asked, concerned.

"Yeah, only that bitch Jackie attacked me and got me banned from ringside. Sorry, guys."

"Sorry?" Jeff asked. "Lita, that just gives you more reason to kick her butt in your match tonight. Hey, Angel, you're sitting up, that's great."

Angel smiled brightly. "I saw you guys win and I suddenly felt better. In fact, I'm going to be Lita's valet."

Matt and Jeff frowned and turned to Lita. "Are you sure that's such a good idea?" Matt asked.

Lita sighed. "Whatever, you know, I have to get ready." She walked quietly to her stuff.

"Angel," Matt said, gripping his brother's shoulder. "Did you see this man out there? He owned Bull Buchanan, absolutely owned him."

"That'll teach those jerks to mess with you," Jeff added.

Angel smiled. "You guys are the greatest."

* * * *

Lita and Angel were first out to the ring. They smiled for the crowd and Lita even performed her ritual of posing on the ropes. Angel spotted Ivory sitting at the announce table. Steven Richards was nowhere in sight. Smiling to herself, Angel sat on a folding chair at the other end of the table and rested Head on her lap.

"Hi Ivory," she called.

"That's not fair, JR. How do you get to sit next to Angel while I'm stuck with Ivory? Yeesh!"

"Miss Angel," Ivory started. "What are you doing out here? This match doesn't concern you."

"Sure it does. My cousin's in the ring. I thought you'd dig that, you know, being big on family values."

"Well, actually, I think it's fantastic that you're showing support for your cousin, but I don't see why the two of you feel the need to expose your bodies in order to get attention."

By now, Jackie was in the ring and the match had officially started. JR and King decided to let Angel and Ivory talk it out, just throwing in the occasional comment about the match in progress.

"Well, actually, Lita gets attention by…yep, that move there. The Hurricanrana. Go Lita! And me, well, I'' not looking for attention. I dress this way because I like to, not because I have to."

Nevertheless, people cheer you. They cheer because they are disgusting and you look like a two dollar whore."

"That's not why they cheer. They cheer because I give really good Head."

"What?" cried JR, King and Ivory in unison.

Angel smiled. "You guys have met Head, right?" She held Head up for them to see.

"That's another thing," Ivory continued. "Why must you persist in carrying around that disgusting disembodied doll's head?"

"A friend gave her to me. She's pretty cool, huh?"

"She! As if the objectification of women hadn't gone far enough, now an it becomes a she?"

"He, she, it, whatever. I was talking about friendship."

"She makes a good point, Ivory," JR cut in. "It think it's safe to say that Angel's made more friends here in two weeks than you have in your entire career."

"Maybe so, but are they true friendships? These so-called friends allow you to be attacked and carry on regardless, like earlier this evening…"

"Well, we all know how that happened," King cut in as Jackie and Lita fell from the ring.

"Mr. Lawler, please, I'm talking. Miss Angel, the Right To Censor could show you true friendship if only you'd see the light and agree to join us. I'm sure you have a lot to offer."

"You're right, Ivory, I do have a lot to offer." She paused, causing King and JR to stare at her, dumbfounded. "I mean, like I said before, I do give really good Head. Just ask your puppet master Steven Richards all about it."

Ivory's mouth dropped open and she got to her feet, ready to pounce on Angel, but at that moment both Lita and Jackie leaped through the air, knocking Ivory down. The three of them fought as Angel kept a safe distance, shouting encouragement to her cousin. Eventually, the three women were separated and Angel ran to Lita's side.

"Lita, are you okay?"

"Yeah, that bitch Ivory poked me in the eye, though. I'm glad you stayed out of it."

"She never saw it coming," Angel gloated. "It was awesome."

"Yeah, but the match isn't over, so now I have two people to beat on Thursday."

"You can do it, Li. And Matt and Jeff can win the tag titles again. I just know it."

************************************************************************


	8. 2 Xtreme!

Title: 2 Xtreme!

Rating: PG-13 for total Xtreme-ness ;-P

Spoilers: For the date given and for an unknown date in 2000 involving Al Snow and Right To Censor. Includes direct dialogue from Lita and Matt

Disclaimer: All wrestlers are owned or were owned by the WWE. Angel is owned by me. Barbie is owned by Mattel (I think).

Summary: So now Angel Torres is a valet and she's in training to be a wrestler. How hard could it be? 

SMACKDOWN XTREME, FEBRUARY 1ST, 2001

Angel groaned and rolled over, daring to open one eye and look at the clock. No, impossible. She'd crashed early, before nine. How could she have gotten almost nine hours sleep and still feel this dead?

It had all started on Tuesday when Al Snow had come to collect Head. He'd talked to it for a while and then offered to train Angel, free of charge, provided she'd occasionally baby-sit for Head. Apparently Head had a fantastic time with Angel, especially the part where it was used as a weapon against Steven Richards. Al and Head had never liked Right To Censor. Months back, when RTC was just starting to make its presence felt, Al had a habit of being accompanied to the ring by two ladies of the inflatable variety. Al had been quite upset when his ladies had been subsequently censored, so Angel's attack had been greatly appreciated. 

Since that moment, Angel's training had barely stopped. She had cardio for fitness, weight training for strength and lessons on psychological fundamentals and those were before she even learned any holds or moves. Then there was basic offence and defense with Al Snow as well as martial arts and weapons with Blackman, who felt guilty about what had happened on Raw and also volunteered to train Angel for free, provided it didn't conflict with his own schedule.

After only two days Angel was physically and mentally exhausted, but now it was almost six AM, time to start again.

Moving very carefully and trying not to wake Lita, Angel made her way out of the room and collapsed in the doorway, waiting for Al to come collect her. Another long, hard day was ahead of her, and then she had to find the energy to valet at Smackdown Xtreme. 

"No pain, no gain," she murmured through lips she swore were bruised, as she curled up into a tight little ball.

* * * *

"Angel? You ready to go?"

"Nooo," Angel groaned, not raising her head. "I can't, Al. I can't get up."

"Okay then."

Angel heard movement. 'Good,' she thought. 'He's leaving me alone.'

Then she realized she was no longer on the floor. Al Snow was carrying her to the gym and she really didn't have the energy to struggle. If there was one bad thing about hanging out with wrestlers it was that their strength meant they could easily carry the weight of a woman. If you didn't want to go somewhere, it was too bad. You were going.

"No, Al. I can't today. Let's take today off."

"You've got tonight off. It's Smackdown night."

"If I can survive that long."

"Alright, how's this? Breakfast first, then theory. Then half an hour of cardio and half an hour of weights. Then one hour of training and I'll go easy on you. No martial arts today. Three hours, we're done by nine. How does that sound?"

"Okay," Angel murmured.

"Super. You think I can let you down now?"

"No, no, I don't think so."

Al laughed. "You're going to thank me, Angel. When you win your first Women's Title, you'll grab the mic and say…" He paused and cleared his throat, putting on a high pitched voice. " 'Of course, I have to dedicate this to Al Snow, the best coach there ever was'."

* * * *

Angel's back hit the mat. Al snow quickly hooked her leg and made the cover.

"One…two…thr-Angel, you're supposed to kick out or raise your shoulder or something. Two and a half…two and three fourths…Angel?"

"Not going to happen, Al."

Al sighed and released her. "I guess we're done for today."

"Fantastic," Angel murmured, still not moving.

Al grabbed a bottle of water from the corner of the ring, drank half of it and handed the rest to Angel. He crouched down next to her. 

"You know, you're really improving. Even Head thinks so."

"Thanks for lying," Angel smiled, finally starting to move. She decided to announce her progress in the style of a commentator. "But Angel raises her shoulders. How did she do that? And now she's getting to her feet. This may be the most phenomenal comeback I've ever seen."

Al grinned, showing his dimples. "That's the spirit."

Angel grinned back. "Thanks for going easy today, Al. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bright and early," Al replied. He picked up Head and stared it in the face, nodding. "Yeah, I know you like her. I like her, too." He sighed, frowning. "It's going to take some time, but we'll get there."

* * * *

Angel walked blindly through the weight room, her body engulfed in pain and fatigue.

"Angel."

"Hi Jeff," Angel said, turning stiffly. 

Jeff was at the bench press and Angel's eyes bulged at the amount of weight he was lifting.

"You know, wrestling boots with gym shorts are a really good look," Jeff joked.

Angel just nodded. She knew he was just teasing but it was true, she looked like an absolute wreck. She had so many bumps and bruises that she was going to have to wear something more substantial than a bikini tonight, or talk to Lita about the wonders of body makeup. Angel took a long, sweeping look around the weight room. It wasn't even nine and already it was full. Most of the patrons were wrestlers, lifting ridiculously heavy weights. Some were sweating, but it was a healthy gym shine and unlike Angel, they didn't even look tired, let alone like they'd gone swimming in their gym clothes and almost drowned. Their hair was perfect, their tans were perfect, their bodies were more than perfect and the whole scene was making Angel sick to her stomach. She was in way, way over her head. Squinting, Angel stared at Jeff, but didn't really see him, as she tried to collect her thoughts.

"Angel," Jeff said, frowning. "Are you okay?"

Those three words were enough. Angel burst into tears. Embarrassed, she turned to run but the most she could manage was to walk slowly with only her momentum keeping her going.

"Angel!" Jeff cried, racing after her. He put an arm around her shoulders and walked with her and she hated herself that she let him, that she was so weak all she could do was lean on him and let him support most of her weight. "I'm sorry, Angel. I should never have said that."

She wanted to tell him that it wasn't because of him, but her mouth wouldn't work and the tears wouldn't stop. She just stumbled and cried and kept her body moving towards her room while Jeff did the rest. He even had to open the door for her.

Lita was up, eating breakfast and watching tapes of Jackie and Ivory's matches.

"Hey Ange. You should try some of this fruit. Ange?"  
Angel stared at Lita with wild, tear-stained eyes. "I'm…" She broke off and swallowed before trying again. "Shower."

Lita watched her, puzzled, before noticing that someone was still in the doorway. "Jeff Hardy. Did you make my cousin cry?"

Jeff sighed and stepped into the room. "I made some crack about her clothes and she just bawled. I feel like such an asshole."

Lita frowned at him. "You should. She's on vacation, Jeff. She brought maybe five outfits and I guess she was going to be spending some time with our relatives down in Florida because they're mostly bikinis. She sure wasn't planning on becoming a wrestler."

"I know. I'm sorry."

Lita shook her head and picked up another piece of melon. "You know, Jeff, I really don't need this. I have a title match and I haven't even started at the gym yet. Now I have to comfort Angel because you said something stupid."

"You can go, Lita. I'll wait for her."

"No, she'll want to talk it out and she might not even want to talk to you."

"It's my problem. I'll deal with it."

Lita sighed. "Okay. But if she kills you, don't come running to me."

* * * *

After a twenty-minute shower Angel still felt dead, but she was a whole lot better than she had been. Her tears had stopped, she'd regained the power of speech, she could even walk…just. Wearing just a towel, she opened the bathroom door.

"Lita, what do you know about body m…oh my gosh, Jeff!"

Jeff nearly choked on the piece of apple he was eating. "Angel! Sorry. I'll turn around."

He spun to face the wall as Angel stared at him, dumbfounded, then walked over to her suitcase. She dressed quickly in her commando pants, tank top and jacket – the outfit shed worn the very first day. She sat cross-legged on her bed.

"Okay, I'm dressed. What are you doing here, Jeff?"

Jeff walked over and sat next to her. "Angel, I'm really sorry about what I said. It was stupid and I didn't mean it and I really didn't mean to make you cry. In fact, I think you looked really cute in that outfit."

Angel frowned at him. "You didn't make me cry, Jeff."

"I didn't?"

"Well, I guess you sort of did," Angel said thoughtfully. "You and Matt, Blackman and Snow, Crash and Hardcore, everyone who was in the gym this morning."

Jeff stared at her, puzzled. "Angel?"

Angel bowed her head. "I don't know if I can do this, Jeff. It seemed like such a good idea, you know. Get fit, get strong, get some moves and kick Steven Richards' ass. But it's so hard. I'm a wreck. I hurt all over. It hurts to walk, it hurts to lie down. God, Jeff, it even hurts to talk. You guys train for hours, day after day. I've done three days and I'm ready to throw it in."

Jeff put his arm around her and was sliding it up and down her back. "What is Al Snow doing to you?"

"Training me!" Angel cried with an ironic laugh. "You know what we did today? He put me in the holds for the different kinds of suplexes. All I had to do was pull the reversal or break the hold. If I couldn't, over I went."

"That sounds okay," Jeff told her.

"Yeah, you'd think. Only I didn't pull a single reversal. I didn't break a single hold. So over I went. Again and again and again."

Jeff cringed and wrapped his other arm around her. He held her tight and waited for her to continue.

"It's like that with everything. I completely suck. I mean, I can't even do a freaking hip toss and if you saw the weights Al's got me lifting you'd just laugh."

"Well, you have to start somewhere." He sighed. "I don't know what you want me to tell you, Angel. I can't say it gets easier, because it doesn't. What I can say is that it gets better."

"How do you mean?" Angel's muffled voice asked. 

"Just little things. Friends are important. So are critics. The first time I heard 'Good work out there' from someone who hated my guts I thought I was in heaven. But the best moment will come when you go out to the ring and you look at the crowd to read some of the signs. You might see some negative ones – 'Suckton Bomb' is a favorite of mine, but finally the day will come when you see a sign that might just say your name, or they might get creative and write something like 'Send Me An Angel'. The point is that they took the time to write that so you know that when you walk out there you're making at least one person's night. That's what it's all about, Angel. You'll see."

Angel raised her head and smiled at him. "You know what, Jeff? I think you actually made me feel better."

Jeff smiled back. "Think you can go on living now?"  
"Yeah. At least for a day or two."

"Excellent." He gave her one more hug. "So, I would definitely love to hang with you all day, but I have a title match tonight and a table one at that."

"It's okay," Angel replied. "I was just going to lie here and watch TV all day anyway."

Jeff looked horrified. "You can't do that. Let's see now…"

"It's okay, Jeff. I like American TV."

"That's it!" He grabbed her hand. "Come with me." 

He led her to the elevator and up a few floors where the better suites were. They stopped by a particular door.

"Wait right here," he told her and knocked.

"Jeff!" cried a female voice as the door opened. "Honey, how are you? Come in, come in."

Angel was left alone, waiting in the hallway. After about half a minute she heard voices coming from down the hall.

"And you are so going to beat the Rock."

"Yeah, he's a dork."

"Total dorkbag. But you, my friend. You're totally Olymptacular."

"I am, aren't I? And I do have my three I's."

"You're totally about the three I's, Kurtski."

"Hey, what's this? It's so totally a Hardy girl, lost in a random buzzed world."

"Hi Edge," Angel said coolly, hoping Jeff wouldn't come back yet.

"Hello. Where's your dorkjob boyfriend slash bodyguard?"

Angel shrugged. "I don't know."

Edge grinned. "Well, in that case, I'd totally like you to meetage two people who, like me, totally reek of awesomeness. This is my younger brother Christian, the other fighterific half of the five time tag team champs, Edge and Christian. And this photogenic man is your Olympic Hero and World Wrestling Federation Champion, Kurt Angle."

Angel wondered if she was supposed to applaud now. "My Olympic Hero?" she asked, heavy on the accent.

Christian scoffed. "Well, maybe not yours. What are you, like, a foreigner?"

"Shut up, Christian," Edge scolded. "Her accent's totally awesome."

While the brothers argued, Kurt stepped up to Angel.

"I'm not sure I caught your name, young lady."

"Angel."

"Angel's close to Angle so you must be okay. Tell me, do you believe in the three I's?"

"Three I's?"

"Intensity, Intelligence and Integrity. If you base your life on them you'll never be a loser. Take me, for example. You see these gold medals, Angel? I won these at the 1996 Summer Games."

"What sport?"

"What sport?" Kurt looked offended. "Wrestling, of course."

"Wrestling? Oh, Greco-Roman. They still have that? Oh yeah, that's right. When we had our games in September they only showed it on TV if they were making fun of it."

Kurt looked puzzled. "Traditional wrestling is an ancient and highly respected sport. Why would anyone want to make fun of it?"

Angel shrugged. "Search me."

Edge and Christian were listening again. "Man, Kurt. She just put you on slam!"

Kurt turned and glared at Edge. "I know that." He spun back around. "Let me ask you this, little miss Angel, if that is your real name, where are your gold medals?" He held them up in her face. "You don't have these, do you, Angel?"

Edge pulled him back. "Okay, easy, Kurtski. We have to go get you ready for your match, 'cause you so totally are going to rule."

Finally, Kurt backed off. "Okay, let's go."

Edge gave Angel one last grin. "See you round, Angel face."

"Bye."

The three of them had just entered the elevator when the door in front of Angel opened again.

"Angel," Jeff said. "This is the Kat. Kat, this is Angel. You two have fun today."

"Jeff, what?" Angel asked.

The woman in front of her was tiny, blonde and very pretty. "Relax, honey, I ain't gonna bite ya. Of, she is cute. Jeff, she's adorable." She giggled and waited for Jeff to get out of earshot. "Honey, he really likes you."

"Jeff? Yeah, he and I have gotten pretty close lately. So, what were you two talking about? If he's been begging you to hang with me, you don't have to feel obligated."

"Angel, honey, it would be my pleasure. Actually, I need a really hot outfit to wear tonight. You should come along and help me pick."

"Are you sure?"

"Sure I'm sure. Hell, I'll even buy you lunch. So, are you in?"

Angel smiled at her. Kat's enthusiasm sure was infectious. "Okay. I'm in."

* * * *

"Angel, come see this one." Kat stepped out of the cubicle wearing very little.

"It looks great," Angel confirmed.

"Yeah, I thought so," Kat grinned. "Oh, honey. Those pants look great on you. Of course, the guys'll be saying they look better off you, if you know what I mean."

"Yeah, well, I can't afford them anyway. Are we done at this store?"

"We sure are."

They got changed and Angel waited while Kat rung up her purchases. Kat soon arrived carrying three bags. "I saw some more stuff I had to have!" she shrugged.

Angel laughed. It had been like that all day – they'd already made three trips back to the car. "Angel, we should have brought an entourage of fine young studs to carry all this for us."

"Are you actually going to wear all of this stuff, Kat?"

"Sure I am. Well, for a few minutes, anyway." She giggled. "Okay, I think we have just one more place to go." Kat led Angel into a beauty salon. "Hi," she chirped when they reached the desk. "I have appointments for me and my friend. I need you to make us look hot."

Angel was examining the price board. "Kat, I really can't afford this."

Kat grabbed her arm. "Relax, honey, it's on me. My treat for you having to watch me shop all day. And I won't take no for an answer."

"Well, I guess I can't stop you."

"You're damn right you can't. Come on. What's your favorite color, Angel?"

"I don't know. Purple…blue."

"Great!" Kat pointed at a beautician. "Make it happen."

"Wait, Kat…"

"Don't worry, Angel. You'll look great."

By the time the hairdresser was finished, Angel's black hair ha streaks of purple and blue and her makeup made her look something like a whore.

"What do you think?" Kat asked.

"I don't know…"

"You know what, Angel? You're afraid of your own beauty. I always say, if you've got it, flaunt it and honey, you've got it. Now look again in that mirror and this time look properly."

Angel stared at her reflection, examining her features. This time she saw a girl with full lips and smoldering eyes, a girl whose hair and makeup looked freaking cool. 

"Okay, Kat," Angel smiled. "You've sold me."

"See, I told you. Hey, you know what you should do? You should get your belly button pierced. Guys really dig that."

"Kat, I don't care what guys dig and I'm a little sore to get holes punched in me right now."

"You're sore? That's great! If you get a piercing you won't notice the rest of the pain."

Angel thought about that. "You know, Jeff has his done and it does look pretty cool. What the hell, you only live once, right?"

* * * *

"This one. This is what I'll wear tonight. Don't you agree?" Kat asked.

"Yeah, that'll look great when you take it off," Angel joked.

"See? Now you're thinking on my level."

They were back in Kat's room, having paid several bellhops to help carry the bags. Now Kat was giving Angel a runway show of sorts as she decided which outfit to wear to strip on Smackdown Xtreme.

"Okay, Angel. Now you have to choose what you're wearing tonight."

"I'm wearing this," Angel replied. "Okay, this," she added, taking her jacket off. "And I might hike up my tank top a bit to show off my belly ring."

"Well, you're starting to think right, but you're not thinking Xtreme." She jumped over to the pile of bags, filed through them, then thrust one at Angel. "Here, go put this on."

"Kat, you're half my size. There's no way…"

"Put it on! Go, go!"

Angel gave Kat a funny look, grabbed the bag from her and entered the bathroom. Soon after, there was a knock at the door.

"Right on time," Kat murmured, walking over to answer it. "Hi Jeff, she's just getting ready."

"So it worked?"

"Like a charm. She saw something she remotely liked, I begged her to try it on, then I bought it for her while she waited. It was the best."

"Thanks, Kat," Jeff smiled.

Kat grinned. "Don't thank me yet – you haven't seen the bill." She handed him a slip of paper.

Jeff's eyes bulged. "You spent this just on her?"

Kat giggled. "I'll show you mine as well, if you want. Anyway, I had so much fun today I'll split Angel's bill with you."

"Kat, you don't have to."

"Come now, Jeff. You're just as bad as her. Let someone do something nice for you…unless you want to pay for all of it alone."

"Kat, you're the greatest."

Kat grinned again. "I know."

They heard the bathroom door opening and turned around.

"Kat, I have a bone to pick with you," Angel blurted.

Jeff's eyes almost fell out of his head. "Wow, Angel. You look awesome."

Angel's eyes locked with his. "Oh, so you're involved in this. I should've known." She stood in the bathroom doorway, hands on her hips. She was wearing a tiny purple cropped tank top and leather pants that fit her like jeans. On her wrists were countless bangles and bracelets and the beautician had seen to it that her hair and makeup were perfect. "Okay, I've modeled. Now I'm taking these things off and we'll take them back to the store."

Kat pouted. "No, Angel. You have to wear that outfit tonight. You look fantastic."

"These clothes aren't mine. I can't keep them."

"Sure you can. Do you know what Jeff does when he wants to wear a Hardy Boyz shirt? He goes to the merchandising people and says, 'Hey, could you please fix me up with a shirt?' Bingo, he gets a shirt. We're your merchandising people, Angel."

Angel frowned. "Kat, no. I can't afford these."

"Angel, dammit, you're keeping them and that's final. You look so good in them it'd be a crime for you to not wear them. And besides, I can't be the only one attracting attention tonight."

Angel sighed. "Okay. Just this once."

Kat grinned again. "Yay! Here, Jeff. These are Angel's bags."

"What?" Angel cried.

"Come on, Angel," Jeff said. "There's no time to argue. Matt and Lita are waiting to head over to the arena."

Angel scowled and went to retrieve her old clothes.

"Well, Jeff, did the Kat pull through or did the Kat pull through?"

Jeff smiled. "You did it, Kat. Thanks for everything."

Kat giggled. "My pleasure, kiddo. Send her my way anytime, she's a blast!"

* * * *

It wasn't until they reached the arena that Lita saw Angel's makeover. It had been a cold day in Columbus, Ohio and Jeff had loaned Angel his jacket. She took it off at her office and Lita noticed immediately.

"Jeff Hardy!" she yelled. "What the hell did you do to my cousin?"  
Jeff and Matt came running.

Jeff frowned. "You told me she needed some clothes so I sent her shopping with the Kat."

"You what? And no, I said she only had a few outfits, not that she needed charity."

"It's not charity. I think she looks great."

"Of course you do! The hair, the belly button ring. Jeff, she's not your Barbie doll!"

Jeff shrugged. "Matt, what do you think?"

"I think we have title matches tonight and shouldn't be fighting amongst ourselves."

Jeff turned back to Lita. "What exactly is so wrong with it?"

"What's wrong? You've made her a female version of you!"

"Don't be stupid. Anyway, what's so wrong with me?"

"You guys," Angel cut in. "Can I say something?" They looked at her expectantly. "I like it. I hate the fact that Jeff paid for it but I love these clothes and my hair and I guess the belly ring will grow on me."

Lita's scowl softened. "Well, I guess it's settled, then." She gave Jeff a glare and retreated to the locker room. Jeff followed her, smirking triumphantly.

Matt picked up Jeff's jacket. "Don't worry, Lita'll get over it. And for the record, you do look pretty hot."

Angel grinned. "Thanks, Matt. You don't, though. What happened to your eye?"

Matt raised his hand to his blackened left eye. "Dudleyz. Don't worry, I'll get revenge tonight. Speaking of that, since Lita has to concentrate on her own match, you should come valet for me and Jeff."

"I'd love to."

"Alright, but it's a table match. It's pretty brutal so I don't want you getting involved."

"Matt," Angel smiled. "I don't even know the Dudleyz. They haven't had a chance to upset me."

"Still, no matter what happens, you stay away from the action. Okay?"

Angel nodded.

Matt smiled at her. "You know, I really do like that outfit but you know, it's missing something." He reached to his neck and took off his Hardy Boyz pendant. "Here. Now no matter whose valet you are, everyone will know who's got your back."

"Thanks Matt."

"No problem. Now I better make sure Lita and Jeff haven't killed each other. It's hard to win a belt if you're dead."

* * * *

Angel got her stuff organized and opened her appointment book. Under February first, where she'd written 'Smackdown Xtreme' she added the words 'Matt and Jeff – tag title tables'. She hoped she'd get to the day when she'd write in a whole list of appointments.

"Howdy, ma'am. Are you the valet?"

Angel looked up at a tall man with short blonde hair and both ears pierced. "I sure am. What can I do for you?"

He rubbed his neck and squinted at her nameplate. "Well, Angel. I'm here on the advice of my friend, Chyna. She was a wrestler here, absolutely the greatest – strong, beautiful, smart. You know how it is. But then those sons of bitches in Right To Censor cut her career short. The doctors, well, they don't think she'll ever wrestle again. So I told her. 'Chyna,' I said. 'You can get through this. You need to get out there and promote your exercise video and your book'. She's got a new book out called 'Chyna - If They Only Knew'. I said, 'Chyna, you're smart, you're beautiful and you're the strongest person I know. You can get through this'. So that's what she's doing. She's done Howard Stern, Conan, the works."

Angel watched him, wondering two things. Firstly, was he friends with Chyna like Lita was friends with Jeff or like Lita was friends with Matt; and secondly, when exactly was he going to get to the point?

He must have sensed her agitation because he finally moved on. "Anyway, while Chyna's been doing that I've been hanging around here trying to avenge her injury. Besides beating Val Venis in a lumberjack match I haven't been very successful, but you never know. On to you. Chyna was watching Raw the other night and she saw what you did to RTC. She just wanted to tell you that she appreciates having you on side."

Angel smiled. "You can tell her she's welcome."

He smiled back. "We also heard that you're a valet for rent so we both decided that, as a token of our appreciation for you attacking Steven Richards, I should hire you. Now, I don't have a match tonight yet, but I do have to do an interview so I might get one at the last minute. If all things fall into place, would you like to be my valet?"

Angel nodded. "Definitely…oh, one second." She leafed through her book. "What was your name?"

"Billy Gunn."

Angel searched for it and skimmed Matt's notes. "I can't see a problem with it.

Billy half-smiled. "Okay, so if I have a match I'll come by and get you?"

Angel nodded. "I hope I see you then."

Turning back to her February 1st entry, she added the words 'Billy Gunn' and a question mark. It wasn't perfect, but a question mark was better than nothing at all.

* * * *

After Billy left, Angel had plenty of time to think and the more she thought the more uncomfortable she was about what Jeff had done. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. Stuffing her bag full, she climbed out of her office and stormed over to the locker room. 

"Jeff, we need to talk."

Lita frowned. "I knew it," she snapped, staring at Jeff accusingly. "Why today, Jeff?"

But Jeff was looking at Matt, as if asking for permission that he didn't think he'd receive.

"Go," Matt said quietly.

Jeff looked puzzled but noticed the intense look on his brother's face and nodded. He silently followed Angel from the room.

"Matt, this is not good," Lita said. "She's going to chew him out."

"Good, great," Matt replied. "It'll get him fired up for our match."

"Matt, arguments with guys are completely different to arguments with girls. He won't get angry, he'll get depressed."

"It doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter? He likes her, Matt."

"I know that. And that's why, no matter how their little talk ends it works in our favor. Whether or not they're happy with each other, Angel's still our valet so she'll be at ringside and Jeff still likes her. I told her just to watch and not get involved so Jeff's going to want to impress her. And if she finishes their talk still angry at him, even more so because he'll be wanting to score points. No matter what, Jeff's on top of his game tonight."

* * * *

"I have to keep these because I've worn them but first thing tomorrow I'm returning the rest."

"Angel, no. We've been through this."

"No we haven't. I gave up before with Kat because I couldn't get a word in edgewise. I can't afford to pay you back so it's the only way."

"You don't have to pay me. It's a gift."

"Gifts this big come with a catch."

"No catch, I swear. Lita told me it was your birthday just before we met. Consider it a late birthday present."

Angel shook her head, exasperated. "It's just…the bag and the other stuff, that was a gift. And even the boots – they were expensive but Lita's family and that makes it okay. But the clothes…it's almost like you own me. You don't own me, Jeff."

"I know. I don't want you to feel like that."

"But I do. I do feel like that. I mean, how should I feel? This guy I hardly know buys me all these expensive clothes for no reason at all and I don't have to pay him back. It's a little strange, don't you think?"

If it was a movie he would have said, "I had my reasons" and then kissed her. But he simply stood where he was, thinking carefully before he spoke. "You're valet for me and Matt tonight, right?"  
"Don't change the subject, Jeff. This is important."

"I'm not. That's how you pay me back. The clothes are your payment for the match."

"No, Jeff. Hundreds of dollars worth of clothes?"

"Your sign says 'All offers considered'. Well, consider this. After the match tonight we're square, even, you owe me nothing. We can go on living and forget about it."

Angel stared into his intense green eyes and finally started to soften. "Okay, but I still don't like it."

"You have to like it or there's no deal," Jeff warned her.

Angel sighed. "Fine. But I'm really not worth it. I'm not that good a valet."

Jeff grinned and led her back into the locker room. "And I guess I'm still waiting on a thank you," he mumbled under his breath. He was glad she didn't know that Kat had paid for half, although he had an answer for that, too. Angel had managed to spend almost a whole day listening to Kat talk without once complaining. As far as Jeff was concerned, the clothes weren't payment enough.

* * * *

The entrance music started and the crowd roared.

"Let's do this," Matt said and the three of them ran out onto the stage, moving their bodies in time with the music. They struck a pose – Matt with his arms in the air and hands making gun signs, Jeff crouched over and Angel pointing her index fingers straight up, then bringing her arms down almost like wings. She was getting used to this valet thing. They ran down the ramp and dove into the ring, posing for the crowd and reveling in the cheers. Soon they were interrupted by an explosion, announcing the entrance of their opponents, the Dudley Boyz. 

Angel took one look at them and climbed out of the ring. Matt didn't want her getting involved in the match but, noticing their size, Angel knew that wasn't going to be a problem. Leaning on the apron and watching them enter, she listened to the ring announcer. A combined weight of five hundred and sixty-five pounds. They outweighed Matt and Jeff by a hundred and thirty-five pounds – a whole Lita. How were her friends going to win?

The Dudleyz and Hardyz talked trash and got in each other's faces, coming to blows as the ring bell signaled the start of the match.

Matt pushed D-Von over the second rope, then turned to help Jeff, who was tied up in the corner with Buh Buh Ray. They gave Buh Buh a double whip, then Matt set up for Poetry in Motion. As Jeff's legs collided with Buh Buh's face, Angel applauded. 

"Yeah! Way to go, guys!"

But D-Von came back and knocked Matt down, allowing Buh Buh to set Jeff up for the double team neck-breaker. Angel cringed as Jeff's neck hit the ground. "Oh! Come on, Jeff. Get up!"

The cavalry arrived in the shape of Matt but he ran straight into a Buh Buh Ray slam. Buh Buh threw his hands in the air while D-Von climbed the turnbuckle, flagging their signature move. Buh Buh held Matt's legs open.

"Wazzup!" both Dudleyz cried before D-Von flew from the turnbuckle. 

Angel cringed again. "Come on, Matt!"

Buh Buh got a crazy look in his eyes. 

"D-Von!" he shouted, shoving his half-brother. "Get the table!"

But victory was never going to be that easy. Matt attacked D-Von outside the ring while Jeff caught Buh Buh with a low blow just before he was about to be put through the table. Jeff tried to flip Buh Buh into a table but D-Von moved it just in time. The Dudleyz then set Matt up for the 3-D.

"Go Jeff!" Angel shouted as Jeff, too, moved the table in the nick of time. He then put D-Von on the table and climbed the ropes for the Swanton Bomb, only to be pushed by Buh Buh. While he was recovering, Buh Buh set up for the superplex.

"Matt!" Angel cried. "Help him, Matt!"

It looked to be over but, just before the superplex, Matt leaped through the table, sacrificing himself for his brother and the continuance of the match. Angel applauded wildly. "Well done, Matt! Yeah!"

While Jeff lay stunned in the ring after the superplex, Matt jumped to the ground.

"Angel. Help me with this." 

Angel ran to him as he pulled a ladder from under the ring. Buh Buh Ray grabbed her just as she got there. Angel screamed, causing Matt to spin around and hit him in the face with the ladder. As Buh Buh let Angel go and fell, Matt hit D-Von with the ladder and he too dropped to the ground.

"Set it up right there, then get out of the way," Matt commanded, grabbing D-Von.

Angel nodded and stood the ladder up next to the ropes, moving out the way just as Matt whipped D-Von right into it.

"Let's get these tables."

Angel helped him set up two tables as Jeff began to get up in the ring.

"Ladder," Matt said as he picked D-Von up and placed him on the table. Angel opened the ladder and tried her best to steady it.

"Now go, go," Matt ordered her as Jeff got to his feet.

Angel walked around the ring as Matt climbed the ladder and Jeff looked on. He noticed Buh Buh watching Angel from the other corner and ran at him, but Buh Buh was ready and caught Jeff with a big clothesline. He then ran over and tried to pull Matt from the ladder as D-Von got up and climbed the other side. Matt punched Buh Buh and started on D-Von as Jeff ran at Buh Buh. But again, Buh Buh was ready and threw Jeff into the air. His body connected with the ladder, knocking it, Matt and D-Von down. Matt and D-Von's heads caught the edge of the nearest table and it toppled over, causing a tangle of steel, wood and broken bodies.

"Matt!" Angel cried, running to his side as Buh Buh picked up Jeff and tossed him over his shoulder into a massive back body drop. 

"Matt, are you okay?" Angel asked frantically as Buh Buh grabbed Jeff by the hair and pulled him from the ring before whipping him into the ring post.

"Matt, Matt, get up," she murmured, lightly tapping his face and not noticing as Buh Buh dragged Jeff past them and to the side of the ramp.

"Matt, come on. You have to help Jeff." 

Even if she'd been looking she wouldn't have seen Jeff and Buh Buh who were now battling it out in front of and ten feet below the stage, out of Angel's field of vision. Matt's eyes were closed but he was breathing and grimacing from the pain.

"Come on, Matt," Angel begged, squeezing his hand. Behind them, Jeff now had control and was forcing Buh Buh up the ramp towards the stage. 

"Matt, please get up."

Matt finally coughed. "Angel," he murmured, not opening his eyes. "Angel, where's Jeff? Is he…is Jeff okay?"

"I don't know," Angel replied. "He's…"

CRASH!

Angel sat bolt upright at the sound that had cut her off, gripping Matt's hand tightly. 

"Jeff," she gasped, her voice no more than a whisper. She released Matt's hand and leaped to her feet, looking around frantically.

"Jeff!" she screamed.

The bell rang and the Dudleyz song started playing.

"Jeff!" Angel still didn't know where he was and the fact that he wasn't answering terrified her.

The ring announcer was talking.

"Here are your winners and still World Wrestling Federation Tag Team Champions, The Dudley Boyz!"

Finally, she found him. He and Buh Buh Ray were lying on two crumpled tables under the stage. They were both writhing in absolute agony and Buh Buh was moaning loudly as some referees checked on them.

"Oh, Jeff," Angel murmured, climbing over the debris. "What happened here?"

"Powerbomb from the stage through these tables," a ref told her. "Ma'am, if you'll just step out the way, they're both in pretty bad shape."

Angel ignored him as she reached out for Jeff.

"Angel," Jeff managed. "I'm okay. I'm okay."

But he wasn't okay, only managing to get halfway to his feet before collapsing again. He and Buh Buh each needed two men to help them back to the makeshift medical room. Matt and D-Von were already there, with Matt having recovered enough to sit in a chair while his brother and the Dudleyz received treatment. 

"Matt!" Angle cried when she saw him. She fell to her knees in front of him, tears streaming down her face. "Powerbomb from ten feet through two tables." She hugged Matt's legs and he leaned over to put two tired arms around her.

"I know, it's okay. It happens sometimes. He'll be okay, I promise."

But Angel kept sobbing, especially as the medics rolled Jeff onto his side, into the easy breathing position.

"Jeff," she sobbed into Matt's lap as he tried to comfort her. "Poor, poor Jeff."

At that moment Lita ran into the room, completely frantic. "My God, you guys, that was totally crazy!" She stood over Jeff. "Are you okay? Are you okay? What's wrong with him?" She spun back around to Matt and Angel. "Matt, you guys, what's wrong with Jeff, you guys…"

"Lita, Lita." Matt raised one hand from Angel and cut her off. "We can take care of ourselves. You just worry about winning the Women's Championship. We're okay, I promise."

Lita looked at him carefully. "Okay. Okay, Angel?"

Angel raised her head. "I'm staying here."

Lita nodded. "Okay."

"Good luck, Lita," Angel murmured.

Still worried, Lita took one last look at Matt. He gripped her hand. "Good luck."

Lita gave a half-smile and silently left the room.

Still gripping Matt's legs, Angel tilted her head so that she could see Jeff. At that moment the though that she was supposed to be Billy Gunn's valet wasn't even close to entering her mind. Some things were just more important.


	9. Miss Hardcore

Title: Miss Hardcore

Rating: PG-13 for language/violence plus a low gag-ometer reading for sap ;-P

Spoilers: As stated. No direct dialogue in this one because we don't get Heat over here so I have to rely on summaries.

Disclaimer: See chapter 1

Summary: Ah, young love…or young like. Jeff likes Angel, but does Angel like Jeff?

SUNDAY NIGHT HEAT, FEBRUARY 4TH, 2001

Jeff and Angel had been practically inseparable since Smackdown. After a full hospital examination, Jeff was advised to take full bed rest for his injured back, neck and right arm. He also wasn't supposed to train until Monday, but this was the only advice he really heeded. Angel was the only one who could even keep him in his room so straight after training she'd head over there and spend the rest of the day with him.

She performed very average renditions of showtunes with her guitar while he showed her photos of his dirtbikes and even read her some poems he'd written. They played cards, surfed the net on Matt's laptop, watched movies and played a Playstation they'd borrowed from the Kat, though why she had one was anyone's guess. They did not discuss anything that had happened on Thursday and Angel didn't complain once about training.

Sometimes Lita and Matt joined them for a few hands of poker, but because of Jeff's injury Matt had received word that he'd have an Intercontinental title shot against Chris Jericho on Raw, so he and Lita spent most of their time getting him prepared. Jeff was happy for him, but well into the realm of feeling sorry for himself, and hanging out with Angel helped him keep his mind off things.

"Hit me," Angel said.

Jeff punched her lightly with his left arm.

"You're funny. Now hit me."

Jeff hit her again. "You think you'll learn anytime soon?"

Angel rolled her eyes, smiling. "Jeff, just give me a freaking card."

They were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"I'll get that," Angel said, jumping off the bed. She looked over her shoulder as she walked. "You know, if you weren't crippled I'd so hit you back."

Jeff laughed as Angel opened the door.

"Angel! There you are! I've been looking all over for you!"

"Hey Molly, come on in. I've just been playing blackjack with this bozo. You want us to deal you a hand or two?"

"Sure, just a couple. Hi Jeff, are you feeling better?"

"I'm somewhat stir-crazy, but at least I can hit the gym tomorrow." He dealt the cards. "Game on."

"Molly, whatever you do, don't tell him to hit you."

Molly grinned at Angel. "Don't worry, I think I could take him." She flexed her bicep to prove it.

"See, Angel?" Jeff asked. "Some day that'll be you."

Angel smiled at him. "Okay, punk, hit me."

Jeff threw her a card. "Molly?"

"I'm good. Hey Angel, I was lookin' for you before on account I wanted to ask you something. Well, not really me, actually. I'm the messenger girl."

"Who sent you, Moll?" asked Angel as Jeff told her to show her cards. "Eighteen."

"Twenty," Jeff smirked before Molly could reply.

"Steve Blackman and cousin Hardcore," Molly replied. "And I've got six."

"Six?" Angel cried. "You could've gotten some more cards."

"I know, I just wanted to play it safe. Anyway, Hardcore and Blackman have a tag match against Bull Buchanan and the Goodfather tonight and they want you to be their valet."

"They do? What about you?"  
"I'm helping cousin Crash tonight. And anyway, you're the only common ground those two have. Well, that and the fact they hate RTC, but they'd have a whole lot of valets if that was all they wanted."

"I'll drink to that," Jeff agreed, dealing out another round.

"If you want to do it you can get a ride in Hardcore's pickup," Molly continued.

Angel nodded and looked over at Jeff.

Jeff frowned at her. "What, you're asking for permission? Go for it. I'll be fine. I'll watch on TV with Matt and Lita so make sure you wave to us."

Angel smiled. "Okay. Molly, you can tell them I'm in."

"Great!" Molly cried. "Hey guys, what's a one and a king mean? Is that eleven?"

Jeff gave her a look, as if wondering whether she was for real. "Actually, it means you won."

"Yay!" Molly cried. "This game's great!"

* * * *

"Hi Angel, glad you could make it," Blackman said without cracking a smile.

"Me too," Angel replied. "Thanks for hiring me."

Hardcore clapped his hands together. "Okay, let's get to business. We have a hardcore rules match, which means I know all three of us want to be here. The fact it's against the Right To Censor people just makes it even more fun."

"Hardcore rules?" Angel repeated. "Fantastic."

"So we all have our roles," Hardcore continued. "We all know my decorated past in these matches. The fact that my name is Hardcore speaks for itself. And you," he said, focusing on Blackman. "Have certain skills which may help us out in this match. Not that I couldn't handle this myself but a tag team match means I have to have a partner and yours was the first name I drew from my cousin Crash's baseball cap."

Blackman raised his eyebrows. "Thanks for the compliment, Bob."

Hardcore ignored him. "You, Angel, would know how dangerous these matches can get, so we want you to stay out of it. But we do need your help. What we need you to do is stand where you can get under the ring and if we call for an object you get it for us as quick as you can."

"Okay," Angel agreed, happy she had a part to play.

"Steve," Hardcore prompted.

Blackman stood up. "We have to make sure you know what all the weapons are in case we call for them. What's this?"

"Fire extinguisher," Angel said patiently.

"This?"

"Kendo stick."

"This?"

"Rubbish bin lid. Blackman, come on…"

"Wrong," Blackman cut in. "It's a trashcan lid. This?"

"Road sign."

"Right. This?"

"Nunchukas. Come on, Blackman. You've taught me how to use most of these weapons. Of course I know what they are."

Blackman stared at her, his intense dark eyes unwavering. "This?"

Angel sighed. "Rub – uh, trash can."

"Right, this?"

"Leather strap."

"This?"

* * * *

There was a knock at the door.

"It's open!" Jeff shouted.

"We didn't want to interrupt anything," Matt said cheekily, appearing in the doorway with Lita. "Hey, where's Angel? Is she in the can or something?"

Jeff shook his head as Matt sat next to him on the bed and Lita took her place on Matt's lap. "No, she went to valet for Blackman and Hardcore Holly."

"Geez," Matt mused. "She gets more matches than we do."

"I'm glad," Lita smiled. "She seems to be finding her niche."

Matt nodded and turned back to Jeff. "How's it going anyway, bro?"

Jeff raised his left hand and held his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. "This close."

Matt raised his eyebrows. "What the hell have you been doing, Jeff? The two of you have been in here all weekend. I had to sleep in Lita's room. Not that I minded, of course." He wrapped his arms around Lita's waist.

Jeff shrugged. "I'm just trying to do it right. You gotta do it right."

"You're pathetic, Jeff."

"It's all about the bait, Matt. To catch a fine fish like Angel you've got to throw in the best bait money can buy and take your time when casting, or you'll scare her away."

"Okay," Lita announced. "That's enough comparing my cousin to seafood. Put Heat on, Jeff."

Jeff picked up the remote control and turned on the TV. They were greeted with the sight of Dean Malenko.

"Hey, look, Lita. It's your boyfriend."

"Shut the hell up, Jeff," Matt and Lita said in unison.

They watched Dean speak, all three with concerned looks on their faces.

"What does he mean he asked me to be there?" Lita fumed. "I got a phone call before but all I heard was heavy breathing."

Matt and Jeff laughed at Lita's attempt at a joke.

"Oh, so he's a single man tonight?" Jeff asked. "There you go, Lita. You're off the hook."

"One night in heaven," Lita murmured, placing her hands over Matt's.

On the TV, Malenko announced that by the end of the night he'd have two women with him who'd do whatever he wanted them to do.

Lita scrunched her face up and shook her head. "God, Dean. Is he on drugs? He's delusional. I mean, come on."

After a commercial break, Heat returned with Malenko trying to hit on a woman in the crowd. He was shot down but kept pursuing her. 

Lita shook her head again. "He's so sad I almost feel sorry for him. Almost."

The first match was between Albert and K-Kwik. Although Albert was in control, K-Kwik had his moments.

"That K-Kwik guy's pretty good," Jeff noted. "Kind of like our style."

"Watch out, Jeff," Lita teased. "He's a better dancer than you are, you might be in trouble."

Jeff scoffed. "Yeah, but he's not a Hardy."

Albert eventually won the match with the move Tazz had nicknamed the Baldo Bomb and then Malenko was back on the screen, still trying to pick up.

"I kind of hope someone falls for it," Matt whispered into Lita's ear. "Then maybe he'll leave you alone." Lita smiled and moved around in Matt's grasp.

"There she is," Jeff announced.

"Aw, it's our baby girl," Lita smiled. "Doesn't she look cute?"

"Yeah, she does," Jeff agreed.

"She does look pretty hot," Matt said. "Not that I want to jump her or anything. I'll leave that to my baby brother, if he ever gets his act together."

"Oh, nice, Matt," Lita remarked.

Angel spotted the camera and grinned, mouthing the words 'hi, guys' as she continued down the ramp. The ring announcer was talking.

"It's a hardcore tag match?" Lita cried. "No, Angel. She's out of her mind. She is, you know."

"Relax, Lita," Matt soothed her, rubbing her back. "I think she's starting to learn how to duck."

"She looks pretty hardcore," Jeff commented.

Angel was wearing a pair of sleek black pants with a tiny black jacket and a midriff top with the word 'Angel' written across it in silver. Her lips were glossy, her eye makeup was dark and her hair spiked with plenty of product. She did look hardcore.

"Yeah, I like the outfit," Lita admitted. "Did you buy her that one, Jeff?"

"Let it go," Matt warned before his brother could reply.

On the TV, they heard Blackman shout, "Angel, nunchukas!"

She dove under the ring to retrieve them. "Blackman, heads up!" Blackman quickly went to work on the Goodfather as Angel jumped out of the way. 

"Angel, trash can lid!"  
"Angel, street sign!"

"She's a really good valet," Jeff observed.

"Yeah, she's real quick," Matt added.

"So long as she's not getting hurt," Lita muttered.

On the TV, Bull Buchanan attacked Hardcore with a kendo stick and went for the cover.

"Angel, fire extinguisher!" Blackman shouted.

"Blackman!" Angel cried, rolling it to him. 

Blackman picked it up and broke the count by spraying its contents on Bull. Hardcore got to his feet and kicked the Goodfather, then covered him while Blackman kept Bull Buchanan busy.

"One…two…three."

Angel let out a squeal of delight and dove into the ring to congratulate her teammates. 

Back in the hotel, Matt, Jeff and Lita were also shouting their approval.

"Way to go, girl!" Lita cried. 

"Told you she'd be okay," Matt teased, hugging her. 

Jeff just smiled as he watched the last few seconds of footage before it skipped to something else.

* * * *

The show was almost over. Lita and the Hardyz had seen Crash Holly lose to Chris Benoit and Test retain his European title in a match against Perry Saturn (despite interference by Terri) They'd even seen Malenko, frustrated by the luck he was having (or rather wasn't having) call a pimp and order two hookers.

After some XFL clips, the cameras focused on the stage at WWF New York to reveal Dean Malenko sitting with two ladies, who fed him grapes and gave him a backrub. 

"Eat your heart out, Lita," he gloated.

Lita fumed. "Oh…pass me the phone, Matt."

"Lita…"

"Just do it, okay?" Lita grabbed the phone from him and dialed.

"You know his cell phone number?" Matt asked.

Lita waved him away. "He's only told me like four hundred times. Oh, hi, Dean. Yeah, it's me. How are you? Actually, I'm feeling kinda lonely right now. Tell me, Dean. I really want to talk. Are you busy right now? I know you're in New York. I am too and I was thinking, it'd be nice for us to get together."

Jeff started laughing. "And the hookers are gone!"  
Lita glared at him, mouthed 'shut it' and did a throat slitting action. "That was just me, Dean, just thinking about you. You know, I'm here alone. Yes, I am. All on my lonesome. And you know what else? I can see you, Dean. I've got MTV on and I've been watching you all night. Are the hookers gone, Dean? Oh, not what I think? We both know it's exactly what I think. Dean, not only are you a sad, pathetic man who has to resort to paying hookers just to avoid being alone, but you will never, ever get a date with me, so you better get used to being alone." She hung up the phone. "Sleazy asshole." She shuddered. "Don't you guys even worry, 'cause some day _I'm_ going to kick his ass."


	10. Guardian Of The Decrepit

Title: Guardian Of The Decrepit

Rating: PG-13 for violence, some language

Spoilers: 2/5/01

Disclaimer: I own a guitar and, like Angel I can play showtunes very badly, but I don't own any wrestlers.

Summary: Jeff makes his move, but things were never meant to be easy

Author's Note: Possibly my suckiest title ever, lol!

RAW IS WAR, FEBRUARY 5TH, 2001

Jeff sighed, blindly flipping channels, never stopping long enough to actually see what was on.

"I'm so pumped for my title shot, Jeff," he murmured, mimicking his brother. "You can't come along to the arena, you're supposed to stay in bed. Remember to watch me on TV." With one last violent click, he turned the TV off.

He just lay there, staring at the ceiling for what seemed like hours but was probably only minutes. He heard a knock at the door but it was muffled, almost like a kick.

"There's no one here!" he shouted. "Everyone's at Raw."

All he received in response was another knock/kick.

Sighing again, he got up to answer it. "You know, I'm really not in the…Angel!"

Angel stood in front of him with a takeout bag in each hand and another in her mouth. Jeff grabbed the one from her mouth.

"Thanks," she said, grinning brightly. "Sorry I'm a bit late, the Chinese place took forever."

Jeff cocked his head. "I thought you were at the Georgiadome with everyone else."

"And leave you on your own to beat yourself up? Never."

Jeff smiled. "Thanks, Angel."

"No problem. Now, let's eat. I didn't know what you liked so I got almost everything. Don't worry, it's Matt and Lita's shout."

Jeff laughed. "Sounds great."

They ate almost in silence. Jeff watched her carefully, smiling at the look of concentration on her face as she worked her chopsticks and the way it changed to a frown if she dropped something. She raised her head and caught him looking.

"You're not hungry?" Angel asked, puzzled.

"Famished," Jeff replied.

"Just a slow eater, huh?"

"Something like that."

"Oh, okay." She continued eating and Jeff continued watching her. After a while she looked up again. "What? Do I have something on my face?" She reached frantically for a napkin.

Jeff laughed and shook his head. "No, you're fine." In his head he added, 'And then some.'

When they were finished, Angel, who was still feeling uncomfortable, gathered the half-empty cartons and put them back in their bags.

"I'll be right back," she said.

"Where are you going?" Jeff asked.

"I'm going to give these to charity…Crash Holly's not feeling too good after his match last night. Just call me Angel, guardian of the decrepit."

"Gee, thanks," Jeff muttered, feigning offence.

Angel grinned, glad their usual mood was back. "Later, Jeff. If you're depressed again when I get back I will be seriously pissed off."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * * *

"How's Crash doing?" Jeff asked when Angel returned.

"Not so great. He had a match with some guy called Chris Benoit and now he's almost dead."

"Been there. So, did he enjoy the leftovers?"

"Yeah, he did. And he's sorry he can't come down and watch Raw with us, but even moving hurts him a lot."

"Oh, that's too bad."

"I know. So it's just you and me tonight, Jeffy."

"I guess we'll survive somehow," Jeff said with a shrug.

There was a long uncomfortable silence which was finally broken by Angel.

"So, it must have been good to get back to training this morning."

"I wouldn't say good," Jeff replied thoughtfully, sitting down on his bed. "Depressing, yes. Painful, definitely. But good?"

Angel frowned and sat down beside him, putting her hand on his leg. "Oh, poor Jeff."

Jeff shrugged. "Those are injuries for you. They happen a lot, you just have to deal." He punched her lightly on the arm. "So, what about you, then? How's your training been going?"

Angel sighed and flopped back on the bed. 

Jeff lay back too. "That good, huh?"  
"Man, Jeff. I totally suck."

"Well, you've only been doing it for a week."

"Oh Lord, that's all? You know, I promised myself I wouldn't complain to you. My crap is nothing like you went through last week."

"It's okay," Jeff replied. "I like to know other people are having a hard time."

Angel looked up at him, offended.

"You're welcome," Jeff laughed. Angel smiled back at him and Jeff started to consider moving his arm so he'd be lying more or less on top of her. But he knew he had to speak or she'd get uncomfortable like she had before. "So, is it still the suplexes?"

Angel shook her head. "Nah, not really. I figured out a surefire way of breaking just about any suplex you can think of."

"And that is?"

"Kick your opponent in the balls."

Jeff cringed. "Well yeah, that works."

"Sure does. But, as Al rightfully pointed out, most of my opponents aren't going to be guys, so he makes me look for other ways instead. But when I get tired and sore I get really vindictive and I do it anyway."

"Poor Al."

"Poor Al? That's when he stops the suplexes and starts on other things like bulldogs, DDT's back body drops and powerslams. Frankly, I miss the suplexes. You can't break those others with a kick in the nads."

"We actually call them low blows," Jeff informed her. 

"That's only because men like to use the word 'blow' in conjunction with that part of the anatomy."

"Oh, harsh!" Jeff cried.

Angel grinned at him. "Jeff, how do you break a back body drop? Those just about kill me."

Jeff frowned. "Did you see that one Buh Buh Dudley did to me the other night? I got more air than a dog with its head out a car window."

Angel laughed. "Well, that gives me a lot of hope."

Jeff smiled back. "You know what? We should try one," he suggested.

"What, here?"

Jeff nodded. "While I don't condone living room wrestling at all, I am a trained professional."

Angel giggled. "Jeff, I didn't want to say anything but I'm dead from this morning. One more drop could render me retarded."

"I'll be gentle," Jeff offered, rolling off the bed and getting to his feet. "I'll stand right here and put you over my head and onto the bed. We can just try and work out what you're doing wrong. It won't hurt, I promise."

Angel sat up, still deciding. "Would you trust this man?" she joked. "Well, I guess it couldn't hurt any worse than I do already," she conceded, finally getting to her feet. "Let's do this before I change my mind."

Jeff put her in the right hold, glad she couldn't see him checking out her ass.

"Are you okay with my head this close to your groin?" Angel asked.

Jeff laughed. "I've had a lot of worse looking people than you down there. Chris Benoit, for instance. You ready?"

"I guess. I'm not staying here all night."

"Okay." He was planning to go easy on her, just lift her carefully and place her down on the bed, instead of throwing her. That, as it turned out, was his mistake. One second he'd lifted her to about head height. Ready for the final flip and the next he was lying flat on his back on the bed with Angel kneeling above his head. It was almost the exact opposite of what should have happened. Jeff blinked a few times, completely bewildered.

"Angel," he said finally. "Did you just hurricanrana me?"

Angel looked down at him. "You mean it worked?"

"Well it sure as hell wasn't a back body drop."

Angel's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh, Jeff! I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

Jeff pushed himself up. "I'm fine, but here's a thought. Next time you're working with Al, try that again."

Angel grinned. "You want to try a DDT now?"

Jeff frowned. "Would you look at that? It's time for Raw."

"Great!" Angel cried, jumping back to sit on a pillow. "Put it on."

Raw was just starting as Jeff switched the TV on and took his place beside Angel. Matt and Lita were up first, causing Jeff and Angel to applaud loudly.

"Yeah! Go Matt!" Angel cried, while Jeff was more restrained, murmuring, "Come on, bro. Bring home the gold."

"Two seventeen pounds?" Angel repeated after the ring announcer, Lillian Garcia, had spoken. "Who weighs more?"

"He does," Jeff replied. "It's his belly, have you seen it?"

Angel nodded. "And his ass. He has a bigger ass than you do."

"What?"

Angel shrugged. "I'm human, Jeff. You have to look. Don't tell Matt, okay?"

"Don't worry, I won't," Jeff muttered as Chris Jericho made his explosive entrance. Jericho handed his title belt to the referee, took his shirt off and was just about to lock up with Matt when a third entrance theme played, causing both competitors to look at the stage. 

Jeff swore. "That's just what we needed. Ignore him, Matt."

Matt was saying something to Lita, who nodded, a look of concern in both their eyes. 

Jeff shook his head furiously and started pounding his fist into his palm. "I swear, if he does anything stupid I'm going to make him wish he'd never heard of Lita."

Angel grabbed his right arm, worried he was going to hurt it again. "Jeff, who is that guy?"

Jeff turned to look at her as the anger in his face mixed with surprise. "Lita hasn't told you? That's Dean Malenko."

"Dean Ma-what-o?"  
"Malenko. He has a little thing for Lita."

"He does?" Angel frowned at the man on the screen. "A very little thing, by the looks."

"Yeah, you're not kidding. She's told him a million times she's not interested but he just keeps going. I can't even count the number of times he's screwed us just to get to her."

"Why haven't I seen him before?" Angel wondered.

"He must've got injured just before you showed up. Me and Matt…" He paused, choosing his words. "Dropped a ladder on his knee for trying to sneak a peek at Lita in the shower. He's been out ever since. You must have missed him last night when he was co-hosting Heat."

"Oh, that's too bad," Angel mused. "'Cause he's a hottie."

"What?"

"I'm kidding, Jeff. Come on, Matt!"

"Ignore him, Matt," Jeff murmured as Jericho surprised Matt from outside the ring. Jericho bitch-slapped Matt twice, then took him over in a huge belly-to-belly suplex.

"Ooh!" Angel cringed. "I guess he can't break those holds either."

"No kidding," Jeff replied, moving his right arm so he was now holding her hand.

Jericho threw Matt back in the ring and hit him with a big elbow.

"This is not good, this is not good," Angel chanted, squeezing Jeff's hand.

Jericho made the cover but Matt kicked out on two.

"Yeah!" Jeff and Angel cried.

Jericho continued his punishment of Matt, getting another nearfall before putting him on the turnbuckle for a superplex, but Matt threw him to the ground, then took him down with a flying clothesline which floored them both.

Matt got up first and took the advantage, dropping Jericho and then taking his shirt off.

"There's that tummy!" Angel cried.

Matt did his big leg drop and made the cover but Jericho kicked out on two. Meanwhile, Malenko had started walking down the ramp. Jericho bundled Matt upside down in the corner, but while the referee was checking on Matt, Lita brought down Jericho with a hurricanrana from the top rope.

Jeff clapped his hand on his thigh while Angel frowned. "I wish she wouldn't cheat."

"They've gotta do something to make up for Malenko," Jeff replied

"Yeah, but he hasn't done anything yet."

"Yet," Jeff echoed.

Matt made the cover and again got a nearfall. He then flagged the Twist of Fate but Jericho punched him and threw him from the ring. He landed at the bottom of the ramp and Lita ran to his side. As Lita helped Matt to his feet, Malenko ran down the ramp and shoved Matt, causing Lita to be pinned between Matt and the ring apron. Malenko continued beating Matt, then tossed him into the ring and ran back up the ramp. Jericho, who'd been arguing with the ref and hadn't seen what happened, caught Matt with a bulldog and then a lionsault. He hooked Matt's leg and got the three count, retaining his title.

Malenko slowly approached Lita, who was lying on the ground and holding her stomach, but just as he reached her, Matt spun him around and started punching him.

"Yeah!" Jeff shouted. "Hit him! Punch him!" He suddenly went quiet. "Look out, Matt, it's Saturn."

With two against one, Matt was on the ground, but just then Jericho came to his aid, attacking both Malenko and Saturn, before climbing into the ring and beckoning the Radicalz to join him. He got his wish, but not how he'd planned it, for, as he kept eye contact with Malenko and Saturn, Eddie Guerrero appeared from nowhere and attacked him. 

"Who's that one?"

Jeff turned to her. "You've really missed out on meeting some prime jackasses, haven't you? That's Eddie Guerrero, another Radical." He held her hand tightly as Guerrero, Saturn and Malenko all beat up on Jericho. Matt tried to help out but Eddie hit him in the head with the Intercontinental belt, dropping him to the canvas. Saturn gave Jericho a powerbomb and pinned his legs. Guerrero dropped the IC belt on Jericho's head and climbed the ropes for the frogsplash. 

Jeff cringed as Guerrero hit Jericho, gripping Angel's hand. "Everyone got their revenge, I guess," he murmured as Guerrero stood over Jericho, talking smack.

"What did Jericho do?" Angel asked him worriedly.

"He put him in the Walls of Jericho about a month and a half ago. I knew he'd be pissed when he came back."

"Those guys are assholes, Jeff. You have to get them back."

"Oh, we will."

They sat there in silence for a while.

"Hey, look, it's Molly!" Angel cried. "What's she doing?"

"Pacing a parking lot, by the looks," Jeff replied.

"Yeah, I know that, but why?"

"I think Michael Cole's going to tell us."

Molly informed Cole that she was waiting for the mystery woman who kept helping Raven, the hardcore champion. 

"Do you know how much I weigh?" she asked. "Two hundred and seventy-five pounds, all of it muscle."

"Two hundred and what?" Angel cried. "I don't know my kilograms to pounds conversions that well but even I know that's way off. She's delusional."

Jeff laughed. "She's a Holly."

"Who's that Raven guy anyway?" Angel wondered.

She didn't have to wait too long to find out as they showed a replay of Crash Holly's match against Raven, and then showed him talking to Molly.

"Oh, he likes her," Angel noted.

"Lucky Molly, she's almost as lucky as Lita," Jeff replied.

"Oh, I don't know," Angel said reflectively. "He's kinda cute, in an anti-soap and water, grunge era throwback kinda way."

Jeff laughed. "When you put it that way. But trust me, Angel. He's bad news. He might look okay, but he's trouble."

"What, did he kick your ass some time?"

Jeff frowned at her. "I did meet him in a hardcore title match once, the last time Matt had an IC title shot."

"And you lost, didn't you?"

"Yeah, I lost, but you don't have to be so 'I told you so' about it." He was no longer holding her hand.

"It wasn't 'I told you so', it was matter-of-fact. You're an aerialist, Jeff."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Jeff asked, more pissed off than he'd intended.

"It means you're a high flyer, doing all these amazing moves and kicking plenty of ass. But hardcore's not about backflips and Swanton bombs. It's about kendo sticks and flour bombs."

"You valet for one hardcore rules tag match and all of a sudden you're an expert?"

"No, I'm no expert, but Steve Blackman is coaching me and I'm learning a lot."

"And you think that makes you hardcore."

Angel shrugged, frowning at his attitude. "Yeah, in a way it does."

Jeff shook his head and smacked his hands onto his thighs, refusing to meet her gaze. "Well, I've got news for you, Angel. It's never going to happen."

Angel spun her head and glared at him. "What do you mean by that?"

"There's no hardcore women's division and they sure won't let you compete with men."

"There's not one now, maybe, but when I get in…"

"No, Angel. It won't happen. Who would you compete against? Who else is hardcore?"

"Lita is…"

"No, no, you really think people will want to see you and your cousin beating the crap out of each other with deadly weapons? I sure don't. And you shouldn't want to do it."

"Well, Lita wouldn't be my opponent."

"Who then, Ivory? The closest she comes to knowing how to use weapons is hitting someone with her title belt every now and then."

Angel hugged her knees to her chest and pressed her head against them. "God, Jeff, you don't have to be a jerk about it."

Jeff immediately turned his head and his stomach about dropped out when he saw her.

"Angel," he started, putting a hand on her back.

Angel reached back and removed his hand, without lifting her head. "Don't. I'm not crying. You don't need to comfort me."

Jeff retracted his hand and put it on his own knee. "Angel," he tried again. 

"I'm just so sick of having to prove myself all the time," Angel said suddenly. "This world you live in is filled with hypocrites and cheaters and you don't even know when you're doing it, half the time. I'm sick of people expecting opposites when I'm their valet. You know, none of them want me getting involved, but it's just dandy for me to get them weapons, help them set up ladders and tables or otherwise help them cheat. If that's not getting involved, what is? I'm sick of having to be valet at all after a full day of intensive training just so I can make enough money to follow you guys around the country. But most of all I'm sick of busting my ass in training sessions so I'll be good enough to compete at the highest level but when I do get there I'll just have to fight in cute little outfits against other women in equally cute little outfits. I'll never get to test my skills, my strength and endurance in the toughest division there is, the one where anything goes and the winner truly is the toughest S.O.B. around. I'll never be able to inflict on Steven Richards the same kind of pain he caused me, he caused Chyna, he caused God knows who else. So really, what's the point?"

Jeff took a deep breath. "That's not what I meant."

"Oh, come on, Jeff. It's exactly what you meant. Just…just forget it. I keep thinking AL Snow's delusional, Molly's delusional, well maybe they are and maybe they're not but I'm starting to think that I'm the one who's deluded. I mean, Al might take advice from a doll's head but at least he's not killing himself for a dream that's never even going to happen."

"You can get Richards back."

"Yeah, I know I can. I can keep finding out who his cronies are competing against and follow them in, then attack him with whatever I see lying around. Well, if that's the case, why don't I do it, huh? Why am I wasting Al Snow, Blackman, everyone's time when I should be at the Georgiadome doing just that? I'll tell you why. One tiny attack on Richards isn't revenge. He'll still be a jackass. I want him in the ring, no holds barred, anything goes, but there is one stipulation. There's no one at ringside. It's just me and Richards. And I want to punish him, for everything he's done and everything he's yet to do. I want to hurt him so bad he's weeping at my feet and he's promising never to do it again and he knows he'll have to keep that promise because if he doesn't I'll be there again and again and again until he finally realizes he can't treat people like that. And he'll look at me and say, 'I'm so sorry for everything I've done in my worthless life and I'll never do it again.' And he'll mean it. And then he'll ask, 'why do you have to keep beating me?' And I'll look him straight in the eye and say, 'Steve, it was for your own good'." She took a deep breath. "But that can't happen 'cause when I get close someone will say 'women don't fight men and if they do, it sure doesn't happen in a no DQ match.' Well, that's bullshit, Jeff. It's not worth it and I've had enough." She got to her feet.

"Where are you going?" Jeff asked meekly. 

"I'm going to go pack. No point hanging around here. Thanks for setting me straight, Jeff."

Jeff leaped to his feet. He had to stop her. Trouble was, he didn't know how. Just then, he saw something fly through the air, hit the wall with a crash and fall into the garbage can in front of him. "What was that?"

"Fighting sticks," Angel replied. "I won't be needing them anymore."

Jeff leaned over and picked them up. "These are Blackman's sticks." He turned and noticed Angel was almost to the door so he ran over and cut her off. "How long have you had these?"

"A week. Come on, Jeff." She tried to get past him but he blocked her.

"Show me."

"What?"

"Show me," Jeff repeated. "You've had them a week so you should be able to do something. I want to see how good you are, whether or not you're hardcore."

"Well, we've already established that I'm not and never will be."

"Just work with me, Angel. This might be the last time I ever see you. All I want is a little demonstration."

Angel sighed and stepped back into the room. "Okay. What do you want me to do?"

Relieved, Jeff followed her inside. "Surprise me."

"Well, I can't spin them around my head while I do that Blackman dance. I can't kick that high yet."

Jeff liked the fact she'd said 'yet'. It meant there was hope. "Well, what can you do?"

Angel looked right into his eyes. "I can hurt you real bad, but I don't want to do that either."

"That's okay, Angel, I'm used to…" Suddenly his knees collapsed and he was falling, but before he hit the ground he felt a stick between his legs and then he was flying through the air. Jeff hit the bed with a thud and the realization that Angel had just performed Blackman's finisher.

She stood over him. "I can do that."

"Damn," Jeff mused, sitting up. "After one week? I'm impressed."

Angel shrugged. "Well, it doesn't really matter, does it? I'll never get to use it."

Jeff grabbed her by the arm and pulled her down beside him. "Angel, keep training, you have to."

"It's not worth it, I already said…"

"Get yourself signed and then we'll get us a mixed tag match. You and me against Richards and Ivory. I'll keep Ivory busy while you get your chance with Richards."

"It's not what I want," Angel protested.

"But you'll get your fair victory. And from then on Richards will have to look you in the eye and know you beat him, that you're better than him. And that'll be even better than physically hurting him because that'll get him right here." He tapped his head with his forefinger. "Cuts and bruises heal, Angel, but that statistic that says 'Jeff Hardy and Angel Torres defeated Steven Richards and Ivory' will last forever and Richards will have to deal with that."

Angel shook her head. "I want him one on one."

"You could get that," Jeff replied. "Chyna used to fight…and beat…men all the time and Lita took on Malenko once."

"I want to hurt him," Angel said patiently.

"What, back body drops don't hurt? Three perfect belly to back suplexes in a row don't hurt? Flying clotheslines don't hurt?"

"Okay, you've made your point, but what about the sticks? I feel like I could get really good with those."

"You can, believe me."

"But you said…"

Jeff cut her off. "I didn't mean it. I was pissed because you don't think I'm hardcore."

Angel gave him a look. "Serious? God, Jeff, don't listen to me. It doesn't matter what I think."

"Yeah, it does," Jeff insisted, causing Angel to stare at him curiously. "I don't want you to go, Angel." He picked up her hand and wrapped it in both of his own. "You're probably the coolest person I've ever met. Matt and Lita, they're into their own thing, you know, and they have so much in common that sometimes I feel like a third wheel. They try not to make me feel like that and I love them both, I really do, but I still feel like they don't understand me, that there's Matt and Lita, one entity, and then there's Jeff, who just happens to be Matt's brother. It's like the only reason I fit with them at all is because my last name's Hardy. Strange coincidence that happened at birth."

"Oh, Jeff," Angel whispered, wrapping her arms around him. Jeff returned her hug.

"But since you've been around, it hasn't been like that," Jeff continued. "When I first saw you it was like 'here's Lita's cousin come to visit. Wow, she's kinda cute'. But I didn't know how easily you'd fit in with the three of us. Suddenly it didn't matter if Matt or Lita, or even Matt _and_ Lita were mad at me, 'cause then there was you, and you made it better just by being there."

"I never did anything," Angel started.

"You didn't have to. And it wasn't just me. All of a sudden Lita got her cousin, a fellow female, to talk girl talk and fashion and stuff. Matt got a kid sister to boss around and protect. Me, I got a best friend, someone who understands me. We all got what we wanted or needed and it's all because of you."

Angel was spellbound. She lightly pressed her palm to his face and stared into his eyes. "Jeff, I never knew."

Jeff smiled. "It's not even just us. It's Al Snow, Molly and Crash, the Kat…I mean, you actually managed to get Hardcore Holly and Blackman on the same page when just a month ago they were trying to kill each other. That really is amazing. You're amazing."

Angel studied him carefully. His green eyes were urgent, even pleading, and she was suddenly aware of the pressure of his hands on her back, of his arms being around her, of the fact that she was practically sitting in his lap. At that moment it seemed like the most natural position in the world for her to be in. He slowly slid his hands up to her face and they were soft, far softer than the hands of a man who made a living pounding the crap out of people should have been. Her gaze flickered over his lips; they were moist and twitching slightly. She felt his warm breath on her cheek, his hands on her face, his cheek and facial hair under her hands, his leg on her leg and she knew that in less than a second he would kiss her and she would let him. 

And then the phone rang, shattering everything.

Jeff released her and she climbed out of his lap, as if she'd never been there at all. 

"Um, I should get that," Jeff blurted, diving for the phone and not looking at Angel. "Hello. Yeah, she is. Angel, it's for you."

Angel frowned her surprise and took the phone from him. "Hello? Oh, hi Al. No, I didn't. You did? You do? Well, that's great! Who's it against? Oh right, okay. Just hold on a second." She covered the phone and looked over at Jeff.

"Al Snow has a match tonight and he wants you to be his valet," Jeff guessed.

"Yeah, that's right. If it was anyone but Al I wouldn't but…"

"You're asking me for permission again," Jeff informed her, though secretly he got a kick out of it. "I'll be fine. But you better hurry if you're going to make it in time."

Angel gave him a brilliant smile and uncovered the phone. "Al? Yeah, I'll be right there. Bye." She leaped to her feet. "Is this outfit okay or do I need to get changed?" She was just wearing her commando pants and black tank top.

Jeff smiled. "You look great."

"Okay. Well, I guess I'll see you later."

"You're not going home then?"

Angel grinned. "How can I?" she asked teasingly. "You guys need me. Bye, Jeff." She turned to leave.

"Angel?" She spun around to find him holding out some money. "Cab fare. I'll call for one to meet you out front."

Angel took the money from him and kissed him on the forehead. "Thanks, Jeff. You're the best."

"No, Angel," Jeff murmured, watching her leave. "_You_ are the best."

* * * *

"Al! Al!" Angel shouted, racing down the backstage hallways of the Georgiadome.

"Angel, I'm right here." He was standing behind the curtain, ready for his entrance. "You just made it."

Angel gave him a big hug. "Oh, hi Head!" she cried, ruffling its hair before turning back to Al. "I'm so happy for you, Al."

Al grinned. "Ask and you shall receive, I guess. So, are you ready?"

"Sure am!"

"Great, 'cause I still don't know who my opponent is, but I need you to take care of Head for me."

"You got it, Al."

* * * *

The music started playing.

"What does everybody want?"

Al and Angel (and Head) stepped out onto the stage.

"What does everybody need?"

Al hoisted Head into the air as Angel also raised her arms. They then ran down the ramp and dove into the ring.

"What does everybody love?"

Al raised Head again, a crazed look in his eyes, then handed Head to Angel, who also raised it as Al posed on the turnbuckles. He was interrupted by another entrance song so he climbed down to stand by Angel as his opponent appeared onstage.

"Who's that?" Angel asked.

"Benoit. Vince screwed me," Al scowled.

Benoit – the man who'd put Crash Holly out of commission the night before. 

Angel patted Al on the back. "You can do it, I know you can."

"Right," Al muttered. "You better get out of the ring. This could get ugly."

Angel took her first good look at Chris Benoit and agreed with Al. Very, very ugly.

Al and Benoit locked up and the bell rang.

"Come on, Al!" Angel cried.

Benoit hurled Snow into the ring post, making Angel cringe. But this time Head wasn't telling her to interfere. If anything it was telling her that she'd be very wise to stay as far away from Benoit as possible.

Al got a few good hits in and Angel cheered and jumped up and down. But Benoit was back on the offensive, tossing Snow from the ring. Angel started to run over to him.

"Stay out of the way, Angel," Al cried as Benoit climbed down to meet him. Snow was ready with a kick and a couple of right hands, but Benoit whipped him into the steel steps and he fell to the ground, clutching his left shoulder.

"Come on Al, get up!" Angel shouted.

Benoit showed no mercy, kicking Snow when he was down, then lifting him back into the ring. Benoit pushed Snow around, then caught him in an armbar takedown, wrenching Snow's shoulder every chance he got. But Snow dug deep and caught Benoit in a huge suplex, leaving them both flat on their backs.

"Yeah Al!" Angel cried.

Al was up first, protecting his left arm as he punched an attack. With just his right arm, he threw Benoit with a back body drop.

Angel went wild as Al powerslammed Benoit then climbed the turnbuckle for a moonsault. He hit it but didn't go for the cover, instead climbing up for a second try. He made the cover but somehow Benoit kicked out.

"No!" Angel cried. "Come on, Al!"

Al was in great pain but continued his assault, only to be stopped as Benoit pinned his right arm and locked on the Crippler Crossface. Al was forced to tap out but Benoit still didn't release him for a few seconds.

"Here is your winner by submission, Chris Benoit."

Angel leaped into the ring to Al's side, ignoring the fact that Benoit was only a few feet away.

"Al, are you okay?" Angel asked worriedly, crouching next to him. She felt someone staring and looked up into the cold glare of Chris Benoit, which subsequently changed to a sadistic grin. Angel scowled at him and tried to help Al to his feet. 

"Well, that was fun, wasn't it?" Al asked seriously as they walked slowly up the ramp.

"Are you kidding? He almost broke your shoulder!"

"True, but I haven't had a match on Raw in a couple of months. It was great!"

Angel laughed. Al sure was something else.


	11. A Shock For Jeff

Title: A Shock For Jeff

Spoilers: 2/8/01

Disclaimer: I don't own any WWF/WWE superstars. If I did, I'd keep 'em locked in my basement…if I had a basement

Summary: The title says it all

SMACKDOWN, FEBRUARY 8TH, 2001

Since Jeff had convinced her to stay, Angel had lived and breathed training. She still spent her mornings with Al Snow and Blackman but she now spent afternoons sparring with Jeff and sometimes Lita, as well as practicing solo with her sticks. The pain was still there but she was refocused, so it didn't seem to matter. In fact, it fueled her because she knew that while she was hurting, she was accomplishing something. She hadn't seen any change in her muscles yet, but she felt stronger and that was the important thing. 

Before Smackdown she was talking and joking with Lita and the Hardyz when Lillian Garcia appeared, along with a cameraman. 

"Hi Lillian," Matt greeted her. "What can we do for you?"

"Actually, Matt, I'm here to speak with Angel. That's your name, right?" she asked, focusing on Angel.

Angel nodded. "But why do you want to talk to me?"

"People have started to talk about you, so I thought I'd scoop them by getting an interview with you. With your permission, of course."

Angel looked over at her friends. Their eyes told her what an honor it was. She smiled at Lillian. "Well, sure. But I wouldn't know what to say."

Lillian gave a comforting smile. "I'll ask you some questions and you just say whatever comes into your mind. Okay?"

Angel nodded.

"Great! Let's roll it. I'm Lillian Garcia for WWF TV and I'm here with Angel Torres, who has burst upon the Federation in the last few weeks. Angel, can I ask how you came to be involved in the Federation?"

Angel kept her eyes on Lillian, ignoring the camera. "Well, I'm actually not contracted. I just sort of hang around. It actually started when I came to look for my cousin, Lita. I was visiting friends in Florida when I saw her on TV and decided to track her down."

Lillian nodded. "And what made you want to stick around?"  
"Well, I'd probably be back home in Australia if it wasn't for Steven Richards. The man is a hypocrite and a cheat. He needs to be taught a lesson and I intend to be the teacher. Yeah, I know I'm just a girl but I've been working real hard and when I'm ready I think I'll surprise a lot of people."

"You're working with Al Snow, correct? So, you'll be a mat wrestler rather than a high flyer like your friends the Hardyz?"

Angel shrugged. "I don't know what I'll be, Lillian. We'll have to wait and see. I need to get a contract first." Angel looked over and met Jeff's gaze. He smiled and nodded, mouthing 'good job.'

The exchange didn't go unnoticed by Lillian. "Angel, I know you came to see Lita, but can I ask you what your relationship is with Jeff Hardy?"

Angel looked surprised for a second before breaking into a smile. "Jeff's great. We're really close. The other day he told me I was his best friend and I'd have to say it's pretty much the same for me. If not best, then pretty close to it."

"So, just friends then?"  
"Yeah, we're just friends." She paused, frowning. "Why, have people been talking?"

Lillian shifted, uncomfortably. "Well, there is a rumor going around."

"Who started it?" Angel asked defensively. "Was it Edge? 'Cause I thought he was only doing that to get at Jeff."

"Come on, Angel," Lillian said softly. "You have to know what it looks like. You and Jeff are always together, you changed your hair to look like his…"

"It doesn't look like anything," Angel protested, running a hand through her hair. "At least it better bloody not. I have a boyfriend back home and I'm pretty sure this show screens on cable there. If he's at his mate's house and sees this, what's he going to think?" She turned and looked straight into the camera. "Tim, if you're watching, it's not true. Jeff Hardy is only my friend, babe. I just want to tell you that I love you and I'll be back home with you again just as soon as I take care of business here. Okay, babe?" She gave the camera a heart-melting smile and turned back to Lillian, eyeing her expectantly.

"Well, thanks, Angel, I'm glad we cleared that up. I'm Lillian Garcia and I've been talking to Angel Torres. And…cut." She turned to Angel. "Thanks, Angel. I don't know if they'll screen it but it was really great to meet you."

"You too," Angel smiled, shaking her hand. 

Lillian and the cameraman exited, leaving Angel alone with Matt.

"How'd I go?"

Matt nodded. "Good."

"Where'd Jeff and Lita go?"

Matt frowned enigmatically. "They went to the trainer's room to get a bandage for Jeff's arm."

"Oh, okay."

"Tell me, Angel. What you said to Lillian, was that all true?"

"Yeah, sure. Why?"

Matt shrugged. "No, just wondering."

Angel frowned. "Why, Matt? Don't tell me you think…"

Matt shook his head. "I don't think anything. Sometimes it definitely pays not to think at all."

* * * *

"Jeff, stop. Just wait a minute. Come on, Jeff, please." Lita finally caught him and grabbed his arm.

Jeff shrugged her off and turned to face her, glaring furiously. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Lita's eyes were soft and sympathetic. "I didn't know, I swear. She didn't tell me either."

Jeff slammed his hands onto his head and slid them over his hair. "Do you know how that rumor got around, Lita? Because I let it. I knew what Edge was saying so when people asked me, do you think I denied it? Of course not, because I wanted it to be true. Now look who's a fool and a liar."

Lita put her hand back on his arm. "You're not, Jeff."

Jeff exhaled loudly and shook his head. "What is she, some kind of….some kind of _slut_?"

"I honestly don't know," Lita replied. "I've seen her like twice since she was ten. Do you honestly think she was playing you?"

"What am I supposed to think? On Monday we almost kissed. And there'd be no 'almost' if it wasn't for that damn Al Snow." He punctuated his words by punching the wall with his right hand.

"Jeff, don't!" Lita cried, grabbing his hand and examining it. "You'll hurt it again."

"I don't care," Jeff scowled.

"Jeff. Look at yourself," Lita said, putting a hand on each of his arms and trying to make eye contact. "I know you're hurting but she's just a girl. Honey, she's not worth this, no girl is. Me and Matt need you tonight, Jeff. We have Chris Benoit and Perry Saturn tonight and we all know who else is going to be there. You have to help us kick their asses. We need you."

Jeff's scowl finally softened. "You're right," he nodded. "You're absolutely right."

Lita gave him a big hug. "You'll be okay, kiddo. You will."

"Yeah," Jeff sighed. "Just so long as I don't have to look at her."

Things worked out in that regard for, as they reached the locker room, they noticed that Angel was at her desk, talking to Billy Gunn.

* * * *

"So, that's what happened. I'm really sorry but I had to make sure Jeff was okay."

"No, that's fine, really," Billy replied. "Friends are real important in this business, don't let anyone tell you that they're not. I used to have a big group of friends too. There were a whole bunch of us – me, Chyna, Hunter, Jesse, X-Pac, even Stephanie and Tori at times. But no one's seen X or Tori in months, Hunter and Steph walk around like they own the place, and I guess in a way they do, and with Roadie and now Chyna gone, well, it's just me, I'm afraid." He shrugged, reminiscing. "But that's the past, isn't it?" he smiled meekly. "You wouldn't have wanted to be my valet last week anyhow. I ended up against the Big Show. Have you seen the guy? He goes about seven two, four hundred something pounds. It just wasn't my week, I'm afraid."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Angel told him.

"Not your fault at all." Billy tapped the table thoughtfully. "So, how about we start again? If I get a match, you're my valet. How's that sound?"

"It sounds great."

"Yeah, it does, doesn't it? Same deal as last week, okay? If I get a match, you'll be the first to know."

"Okay, Billy. I'll see you."

* * * *

"You all done crying?" Matt asked as Jeff and Lita entered the locker room.

Jeff looked at him quizzically. "Go to hell, Matt."

Matt glared at him. "I mean it, Jeff. You go running off like a little primadonna while the girl who's supposed to be your best friend is giving her very first interview. When she's done she looks around but you're not there. How do you think that makes her feel?"

"I don't care how she feels," Jeff spat.

"Well, that's a shame. It really is."

Jeff raised his eyebrows. "What's this about, Matt? Are you taking her side?"

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"Well, that's just terrific." He stormed over to his bag and pretended to start getting ready.

"You had no claims on her, Jeff."

"Shut up."

"Well, you didn't. So stop acting like she did you some great injustice."

Jeff looked up. "She just should have told me."

"Why, did you ask?"

"No, but…"

"Then why would she have told you? As much as it sucks, Jeff, she doesn't think of you that way. You were only her friend so, unless you asked, you didn't need to know."

"We nearly kissed, Matt."

"Nearly," Matt repeated. "But she pulled away?"

"No. Al Snow called. If he hadn't, who knows how far we would've gone?"

"It still might not have happened at all," Matt pointed out.

"She was touching my face and we were holding hands while we were watching Raw."

"Friends hold hands sometimes," Matt replied. "She's from Australia. Who the hell knows how they do things down there? And as for touching faces, please, Jeff. Have you ever touched Lita's face or vice versa? And if you tell me it was for other reasons you know I'll hurt you."

Jeff scowled. "Just get off my back, okay?"

Matt backed off, hands in the air. "Okay, I just think you're acting like a jerk and she deserves better."

Jeff scrunched his face up. "I just need some time, alright? Just give me some time."

* * * *

Angel let out a gasp as she focused on the TV. Had she just heard right? Billy Gunn would be representing Stone Cold Steve Austin in a stipulation match. Angel was going to be valet for the main event! She was about to go tell the others when they filed out of the locker room.

"Guess what!" she cried, stopping them. "Billy Gunn asked me to be his valet and now he's in the main event tonight!"

"Lita smiled at her. "That's great, Ange."

Matt and Jeff said nothing, just stared at each other. Angel was puzzled. Were they fighting again?

"So, you guys have your match now? Good luck."

"Thanks," Lita replied and she, Matt and Jeff continued down the hallway.

* * * *

The match hadn't even started when Malenko arrived. His presence made Angel immediately uncomfortable. After the way Matt and then Jericho had dealt with him on Raw, she knew they were in for trouble. Still watching the TV, Angel picked it up and left her desk, headed for the backstage area.

Angel's mouth dropped open at what she saw. Malenko had grabbed Lita from behind and was dragging her backwards towards the ramp.

"Here, hold this," Angel said, thrusting the TV at one of the techies and racing through the curtain. She didn't say a word, just launched herself and did the first thing she thought of. Angel jumped onto Malenko's back, used both hands to wrench his head around, and kissed him. He was so surprised he released Lita immediately, wrapping his arms instinctively around Angel. She almost gagged as she felt his tongue in her mouth, but she was rescued moments later when Matt Hardy shoved Malenko from behind, causing both he and Angel to tumble to the ground. Angel just lay where she was, catching her breath as Malenko tried to attack Matt, only to be jumped on by a flying Jeff Hardy.

When Angel finally looked up into the ring, Jeff was back there with Chris Benoit, who immediately locked on the crossface. Jeff tapped out, but again Benoit refused to release him for the few crucial seconds that would mean the difference between pure victory and inflicting actual injury.

Angel jumped to her feet and dove into the ring. She'd seen what Benoit had done to Al Snow, and this was only Jeff's first match back after a week of recuperation. 

"Jeff!" she cried, crouching over him. "Jeff, are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Jeff murmured weakly, rolling to his side. 

Angel cradled his head in her arms. "I hate that guy, Jeff. He hurts people on purpose."

"Well, that's what we do here," Jeff muttered. "He winced as he tried to get up, putting his hand to the small of his back.

Angel frowned worriedly and placed her own hand over Jeff's. "Is it hurt real bad?"

"Look, I'm fine, okay?" Jeff snapped, jerking away from her. "Matt, can you help me up?"

Angel had no choice but to step back as Matt helped Jeff to his feet. She turned to look for the man who had done this – that Benoit – but he and the other Radicalz were already gone.

She felt an arm around her and turned her head. "Hey Lita," she said sullenly.

"Let's go, Ange," Lita replied, somewhat coldly.

Angel nodded and climbed from the ring. She followed the others to the trainer's room, where Jeff had his back rubbed and ointment applied.

When they finally returned to their locker room they discovered that Billy Gunn had been attacked by Triple H and would no longer be competing in the main event. Angel's night was going from bad to worse.

She stepped over to where Jeff was sitting. 

"We have to do something about Benoit and Malenko, Jeff. They have to be stopped. We need to think of some sort of plan."

Jeff looked up at her with a scowl. "You don't get it, do you?"

Angel frowned. "What?"

Jeff shook his head, looking down again. "You just don't get it. A plan? We're not going to stop them with some lame-ass scheme. There's too many of them. A plan might have worked with the Acolytes, but the only way to beat the Radicalz is night by night. So that's the way we do it."

Angel was confused by the anger and hurt in his voice. "Well, maybe if we…"

"No, Angel. There's no 'maybe'. If you'd just listen for once and actually hear what I'm saying, maybe I wouldn't have to repeat myself over and over again." He still wouldn't look at her.

Angel blinked. "Why are you so mad at me? Is it because I kissed Malenko?"

Jeff did a double take. Now he was looking. "You…you kissed Malenko?"

In another area of the locker room, Matt swore and Lita put an arm around him.

It had done it for Jeff. He was incapable of speech, just buried his head in his hands.

"Jeff," Angel pleaded. "Don't be like this."

"I've been meaning to talk to you about that kiss, actually," Matt announced, getting to his feet and approaching her as Lita stayed where she was. "Why did you do that, Angel? What were you thinking?"

"I had to do it. He had Lita, I had to make him let go."

"There are better ways," Matt informed her, still approaching her. Matt may have been a nice guy but up close like that he was quite imposing.

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Angel argued.

"There are better ways," Matt repeated. "Jeff tells me you can do a Hurricanrana. Why didn't you try that?"

"I've only ever done it right once. Me and Lita could have gotten hurt."

"You still both could've." Matt lunged forward and for a moment Angel drew back, as if he was going to hit her. But he didn't, he grabbed at her pants for a split second, then held up Blackman's fighting sticks. "You're good with these. You should use them."

Angel reached up and took them from him. "I didn't even think of it," she confessed.

Matt nodded. "Next time, when you're feeling compelled to interfere, make sure you do think of them."

Angel returned his nod. "Okay. I'm sorry."

Matt half-smiled and stepped back.

"Angel, I don't think we should train together anymore," Jeff suddenly blurted. "You're a distraction and I really don't need it."

Angel turned to him with a confused frown. "Jeff?"

"I really think you should go back to your office," Jeff continued, regarding her coldly. "You haven't been valet for a single match tonight and the one match you did have fell through. I know you need the money so…" He let his sentence hang.

Angel's lower lip trembled so she started chewing on it. She nodded slowly and left without a word.

* * * *

Angel sat at her desk, thoroughly depressed. Her appointment book was open to the right day and she'd run a line through Billy Gunn's name and was now doodling, wondering why Jeff was so pissed with her. She honestly didn't know. 

"Angel! Angel! Get up, I need you!"

Alarmed, Angel looked up to see Al Snow racing towards her. He lunged over the table, grabbed her by the waist and pulled her out of the office. "Run and tell the others we have a match."

Angel didn't even think twice. "They don't care, trust me. We have a match?"

"Yes, but my opponent's already waiting. We have to go!"

Angel ran with Al, right past the backstage techies. 

"Lady, you want your TV back?"

"One more match," she called over her shoulder.

Angel and Al kept running, right into the ring, only to find that no one was waiting for them.

"Where's your opponent?" Angel asked.

"I don't know," Al replied. "I guess this is Vince's idea of a joke."

"You want to go?"

Al shook his head. "We'll give it a little longer."

In a few seconds they heard the sound of tribal drumming and met with the sight of 423 pounds of Rikishi, accompanied by at least 350 of Haku.

Angel's eyes widened. "That big guy?"

Al nodded solemnly. "Looks that way."

"Good luck, Al," Angel said, patting him on the back.

"He's not too fast, so make sure he doesn't catch you," Al advised. "If he sits on your chest it could shatter your ribs."

"I don't intend going anywhere near him," Angel replied, climbing out of the ring.

Al turned to watch Rikishi's entrance, entirely focused.

"This one's for you, Mick," he murmured, psyching himself up.

By the end of the match, which Al lost, Angel had seen her friend's chest crushed in a Banzai drop, exactly as he had described. By all accounts, it had not been a good night.


	12. The Girl With The Eyes

Title: The Girl With The Eyes

Rating: PG-13 for adult themes, but no explicit violence or overly bad language

Spoilers: None that I haven't used before

Author's note: Ah, so my little obsession with Chris Benoit begins. Where will it go from here? What will it mean for Angel and Team eXtreme? Why do I always have more questions than answers? ;-P

SUNDAY NIGHT HEAT, FEBRUARY 11TH, 2001

Chris Benoit hated women. Most of them were good for one thing only and the rest not even that. He hated the pretty ones most of all – Lillian Garcia, that blonde bitch who fancied herself as a legitimate journalist, and Lita, God, how he hated Lita. He didn't even like Terri, although he let her hang around the Radicalz because someone had forgotten to tell Saturn that she was an ugly whore, and that amused him greatly.

Benoit didn't need a woman. They talked too much, whined constantly and were always getting in the way; he'd seen that happen with Terri a million times. There was no way he was going to let anyone, especially not some dumb broad, get in the way of his ultimate prize – the WWF title. Only a while ago he'd been a legitimate contender, now here he was, kicking the crap out of the Hardy Boyz night after night and why? All because Malenko couldn't keep it in his pants and Benoit, being one of Malenko's oldest friends, was there to deliver his own brutal brand of revenge.

If he was to be proved wrong, if he was to be beaten, however unlikely, he liked it to be because of him, because of a mistake he'd made. It had been like that at the Royal Rumble. One small mistake and Chris Jericho became the Intercontinental Champion. Benoit loathed Jericho, his ability to get lucky like that, because there was no way he was a better wrestler than Benoit – no one was. Jericho was a lot like a woman – long blonde hair, a pretty face, always yapping or whining. Perhaps that was why Benoit hated him so much. He grinned and ran his tongue through the gap in his teeth at the thought.

No, Chris Benoit didn't need a woman. There were ways of getting around that one thing they were good for and, besides, abstinence made him a better athlete. He was turned on most of all by power, pain and winning, three things he had routinely in his line of work, so who even needed a woman? That's not to say he was completely celibate. Occasionally he'd pick up groupies. It was just so easy. They'd be standing there as he left, in their skimpy little outfits, screaming for the Hardy Boyz, Edge and Christian, the Rock, Chris Jericho and Test. They obviously didn't know Test hated women almost as much as Benoit did. While Test was another pretty boy and Benoit couldn't stand him, he did respect that attitude. The big seven would all pass these women, but they'd still be screaming and then Benoit would be there. He'd look into their pathetic little faces and choose the one or two he hated the most. They wouldn't resist – he was a pro wrestler and he was famous. Do you think all those Playmates screwed Hefner because of his looks or personality? Hell no. Then, when Benoit had them alone, he'd break them, any way he could, so they'd know how much he hated them. That it didn't matter how they did their hair and makeup all pretty, which outfits they wore, what perfumes they used. They were all ugly. They were all whores. Benoit let them know that and he knew they'd never forget and they'd never do anything about it, because they were scared of him. He liked it that way. Power and fear. That's what it was all about. He'd built a career on it.

And then there she was. She was nothing like the others. He didn't notice what she was wearing because he never did. Benoit only noticed faces and they formed the basis of his opinions about people. It wasn't necessarily how pretty the face was, because her face was pretty. It was all in the eyes. Hers were extraordinary. He'd seen her twice and he still didn't know what color they were, though he longed to know. He had to know. Benoit's own eyes were blue, but they were very dark, some would say soulless. Jeff Hardy's were the opposite – light green and nothing but soul. Benoit abhorred Jeff Hardy. And yet here was this girl with eyes neither dark nor light – not green or blue or even brown. And that bothered Benoit, though he couldn't figure out quite why.

The first time he saw her was just after he'd demolished Al Snow (dark brown eyes which were crazed rather than soulless. Not worth hating but definitely not worthy of respect). The girl jumped into the ring before Benoit had even left and crouched over Snow's broken body. Benoit was still glaring down at Snow when she turned around and caught his eye. There she was, glaring up at him as if she didn't know that he could pick her up and break her in two without even thinking twice. Stranger still, as if she did know that. For that was the weirdest thing. There were those eyes, those remarkable eyes, and when he looked into them he saw not even a trace of fear. He couldn't get past that. Plenty of people hated Benoit, he knew it better than anyone, but deep inside them, they were all scared of him. Benoit could look into their eyes and pinpoint their fear so, win or lose, he'd know he owned them. 

And yet here was this girl, not much more than a child. She'd just watched him destroy her friend bust she was no more afraid of him than she would be of a tiny puppy, and Benoit wanted to know why.

The next time he'd seen her she'd planted one on Malenko before jumping up into the ring in an almost exact replica of Monday night. Different broken body, same situation. This time she didn't even look at him, didn't even acknowledge his existence. He wanted to hit her so she'd turn around and he could get a look at her eyes, but he didn't. He just watched as she knelt over Jeff Hardy – her boyfriend, perhaps? That would explain the hair. She didn't look up and when Matt Hardy shoved him, he left the ring, though his reasons had nothing to do with Matt. If she wasn't going to look at him there was no point staying. Benoit and the other Radicalz backed up the ramp, eyes still on the ring. His friends were watching the Hardyz but he couldn't tear his eyes away from her. He still hoped she'd look at him, that he'd see the fear he longed for. But she didn't and so he didn't.

He knew he'd see her again. He had to. And she would fear him. After all he'd been through, after all he'd done, he sure wasn't going to let a woman, a mere girl, be the one to prove him wrong.

* * * *

Things weren't going so great for Dean Malenko. Lita hadn't spoken to him since Thursday and now even Benoit was ignoring him. He had that look on his face, intense and focused. He got that look a lot, but usually before a big match, not in the middle of a Sunday when he wasn't even booked for Heat. Especially so intense a look. Malenko hadn't seen a look like that since Benoit had his last Federation title shot. It was very weird.

But Malenko was more worried about Lita. It was unlike her to ignore him for so long. He knew it had to be because of that other girl – the kiss. Malenko had been surprised and he'd be lying if he said he hadn't enjoyed it, but the girl wasn't Lita. His Lita. He had to go set things straight.

"Hey Chris, I'm going to go…get me a few broads."

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "Yeah," he replied, before returning to his thoughts.

* * * *

Lita opened the door. "Oh, what do you want?"

"Don't be like that, Lita. You know exactly what I want."

"Goodbye, Dean," Lita replied emphatically, starting to shut the door. 

Malenko stood in the way. "I know why you're upset with me, beautiful."

"Finally."

"It's about that other woman, what happened on Smackdown," Malenko continued. "Lita, I don't even know that girl. I've never seen her before in my life. You have to believe me."

"She's my cousin, Dean."

"Your cousin?"

"That's right," Lita replied testily. "My cousin."

"So she was jealous of our relationship. That makes sense," Malenko mused. "I guess I'll have to let her down easy, 'cause I promise, Lita, she means nothing to me. You're the only woman for me. I won't let her come between us, because we were meant to be together, Lita."

"Look, Dean, thee is no 'us'. There's never going to be an 'us' and the sooner you get that through your head, the better." She leaned against the door again and it finally closed. Lita quickly flipped the lock. "Can you believe him?" she called to Angel, who was sitting on her bed.

"I'm really sorry, Lita. I didn't know it was so bad."

"Well, I could have done without it, but the truth is he probably would have come to see me just now even if you hadn't kissed him. He's off the planet. I don't know how many times I've told him I'm not interested but he still keeps on…" She was interrupted by another knock. "Go away, Dean!" she shouted.

"It's me, Lita."

Lita unlocked and opened the door. "Sorry, Jeff. Dean was just here and…" She sighed. "…Well, you know what he's like."

Jeff nodded. "Wish I'd been here to kick his head in for you. Tell me, is Angel around?"

"Yeah, she's right in here." Lita stepped out of his way and he entered the room.

"Hi Angel."

"Hi," Angel replied quietly. She'd been standing since she'd heard her name.

Jeff took a deep breath. "I miss you."

"Me too."

Jeff finally opened his arms and Angel stepped up to him.

"I'm so sorry, Angel," Jeff said, hugging her tight. "I was acting like a real jerk."

"I'm sorry too," Angel replied. "I shouldn't have kissed Malenko. I didn't realize all the trouble it'd cause."

Jeff pulled away and rested his hands on her shoulders. "I forgive you. Just don't do it again."

Angel smiled at him. It was great to have things back to normal. Well, as normal as things ever were around there. 


	13. Malenko's Women

Title: Malenko's Women

Rating: PG-13 for violence and some language

Spoilers: 2/12/01

Summary: Jeff wants Angel, but she's too busy hatching a plan to help get Malenko off Lita's back. And what on earth is up with Al?

Disclaimer: I don't own nothing *pouts*

Author's note: I like this one. Malenko's such a little weasel and it's fun to write heels! Plus, you get to see me display my very limited knowledge of Spanish. lol

RAW IS WAR, FEBRUARY 12TH, 2001

"You know, Jeff, if you were smart…" Matt started.

"But I'm not," Jeff cut in.

"That's right. But if you were, you wouldn't stop trying to get Angel just because she's got some boyfriend thousands of miles away."

Jeff sighed. "What's the point? You said yourself that she doesn't think of me in that way. I only just got her friendship back, I really don't need to be turning all Malenko on her."

"Actually, I think here's a situation where you could learn something from Malenko."

Jeff gave Matt a look. "You have to be kidding me."

"Believe it or not," Matt shrugged. "Malenko knows how to get into a woman's mind. Persistence is the key. If you do what Malenko does, just not as offensively, you'll have it made."

"Not sure I follow you."

"You have to be there all the time, but not like a stalker, like a friend and then some. You have to have so much fun with her that she can't wait to hang with you again. You already have an advantage over Malenko because Angel actually likes you. You have to make sure that the last thing on her mind when she goes to sleep and the first when she wakes up is Jeff Hardy, not Tim or Tom or whatever his name is."

"Oh, that's all," Jeff said sarcastically. "I don't think we should be forgetting about Tom. Angel sure won't."

"Jeff, you know as good as anyone how hard it is to have a relationship with someone outside the business, and that's when you're in the same country. I don't advise you to tell Angel that her thing with Jim isn't going to last, but it won't. It's going to take Angel forever to get good enough to face Richards and in that time, maybe Stan will find someone else and Angel will realize that what she wanted all along was right in front of her the whole time, and it had multicolored hair and wore pantyhose on its arms."

"Hey," Jeff protested. "My armbands are cool."

Matt grinned and gripped Jeff's shoulder. "Just hang in there, kid. I mean, how could she resist you? You're a Hardy." Jeff smiled at him but Matt wasn't done yet. "Angel's about to check into Temptation Island and you, my brother, are the hottest whore there."

Jeff gave Matt a look. "Thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome." Matt gave Jeff a little shove towards the door. "Now go for it."

* * * *

"So, it turned out she was just some school services lady I'd never seen before, but everyone else was getting it done so I thought, why not? As soon as I sat down she looked at me long and hard and then said, 'I feel that your name starts with a J.' And I'm like 'yeah' and she says, 'it's J…J…Jack'. But before I could reply, she grabbed my wrists like this…"

"Ow, that hurts," Angel said.

"Yeah, I know. So, she grabbed me and screamed out, 'no, no, it's Jeff!'"

Angel grinned. "She worked your name out. That's cool."

"Yeah, but that was practically the only thing she got right, and I realized later that I'd been wearing my varsity jacket, so the whole world could have worked out my name if they'd been looking."

Angel laughed. "So, what happened with the palm reading?"

Jeff grinned, glad she was still interested. "Okay, so she's still holding my wrists, she lets go of the left hand and now she's holding just my right hand. She looks really closely and I start getting kind of uncomfortable because mine weren't the cleanest hands known to man…though yours are, huh. So anyway, she's looking and running her finger down the lines like this and then she suddenly looks up, right into my eyes and says, 'you're a country boy, right, Jeff?' And I nodded. I mean, that one wasn't too hard, we were in Cameron, after all. Then she said, 'you have strong family ties. Family is very important to you'. And by now I was starting to think, hey, maybe this isn't bogus. So then she says, 'you're going to stay in Cameron forever, Jeff, because you're happy here. All of your lines are good and strong, but the tie to family and home is undeniable. I see you settling down while you're still young with a comfortable job, probably similar to your father's. You live a long and happy life, one, no, two children, right here in Cameron, with a special girl you already know. She might even be your girlfriend already.' So, I was pretty surprised. I mean, I'd already been working for Indy feds for almost two years, touring around the south on most weekends. I mean, I loved my pops and I loved my brother, but I knew where I was going. I mean, I've got my own place in Cameron now but I'm hardly ever there. And as for the girl." He sighed deeply, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, you know how single I am. But then, I don't know if Id have liked it if she was a real psychic and had said, 'well, Jeff, all your dreams are going to come true. You'll be a pro wrestler and you'll love it, it'll be an absolute blast, but you'll be really lonely, sometimes like you wouldn't believe." He shrugged at Angel. "But that's this business for you. And besides, I have my friends to keep me from getting too homesick, right?"

"Oh, Jeff, of course!" Angel cried, hugging him. Jeff held her tightly, one hand on her back and the other on the back of her head. When they broke apart they were suddenly aware that they weren't alone.

A man Angel recognized as Essa Rios stood in front of the table. His head was cocked as he read the nameplate. He looked up at Angel.

"Torres," he said, pronouncing it exactly as it was supposed to be pronounced.

"Yes," Angel replied.

"Angel Torres," Essa repeated, making Angel smile with the way he called her 'Ahn-hail'. She hadn't heard that in a while. 

"That's me."

Essa stared at her curiously. "¿Eres una latina?"

Angel gave him a dazzling smile. "Sí." Well, only on her father's side, but he didn't have to know that.

Essa broke into a slow sexy smile, nodding to himself. Angel felt Jeff getting restless next to her so she put her hand on his to stop him doing anything stupid.

Essa was still smiling and nodding. He looked up and spotted her sign, then looked back at her. "¿Quieres me acom…?"

He was cut off as Jeff leaped to his feet and got right in his face. "Essa, what's Spanish for get the hell out of here?"

Hands in the air, Essa backed off. He already planned asking Vince McMahon for a rematch with Kurt Angle, he didn't need a jealous Hardy on his back.

"Hasta luego, Angel," he said with a shrug, turning to leave.

"Luego," Angel echoed.

Essa nodded at her and, as he left, she heard him muttering something in Spanish under his breath. She couldn't be sure, because it was actually a long time since she'd spoken Spanish, but she thought he'd said, "I should've finished you off when I had the chance, you psychotic piece of dog's vomit." Angel tried not to smile.

"What did he say?" Jeff asked testily.

Angel shrugged. "I don't know." She turned to him. "But he was a prospective client and you scared him off."

Jeff stared at her incredulously. "That was Essa Rios. Surely you know that story."

Angel nodded. She'd actually had no intention whatsoever of being Essa's valet. After all, he was Lita's ex and it hadn't been the friendliest of breakups. Still, Essa hadn't been the first person to walk past the office that night and he probably wasn't going to be the last. She couldn't prove that Jeff was scaring them all away, but it sure seemed like it. And it wasn't as though she didn't like hanging out with him, he was a lot of fun, but he did have a match of his own to prepare for.

As if reading her thoughts, Jeff spoke. "Well, I guess I better go get ready, huh? I'll see you later."

"Bye," Angel smiled, watching him climb from the office and enter the locker room. She was sad to see him go, but she was trying to run a business and if Jeff stopped her from getting work, well, he had to go.

* * * *

Jeff entered the locker room, a smile on his face.

"About time you got in here," Matt greeted him.

"Sorry," Jeff shrugged. "I had some stuff to take care of."

Matt nodded knowingly. "Fortune teller story?"

"You got it."

"A classic. It's got hand holding, looking deep into her eyes, it's a sob story. Nice work, Jeff. I might have saved it for later but still – how'd she like it?"

"Well, she didn't complain."

Matt broke into a grin. "Oh yeah!" he cried, shoving Jeff lightly. "It's all about you, Jeff. It's all about you."

* * * *

"Why, hello there. Even up close you're a pretty young thing."

Angel looked up from her notebook into the beady eyes of Dean Malenko. Despite the repulsion she was feeling, she broke into a bright smile. 

"Hi," she flirted. "What can I do for you?"

Malenko rested his fists on the table and leaned over towards Angel. "Baby, you can do anything you like."

Angel tried not to dry retch. "Really? Did you come here for a real reason or just to give me some luscious eye candy?" She ran her tongue over her lips to prove the point.

Malenko raised his eyebrows and couldn't hide his grin. "You know, there was some reason, but the sight of your beautiful face has made me forget all about it."

Angel held his gaze. "It couldn't have been too important, then."

"No, it couldn't have." He stared at her for a long time.

"Did you come to hire me?" Angel asked, breaking the silence.

"Huh?"

"I'm a valet. If you have a match you can hire me and I'll accompany you to the ring. Do you have a match tonight?"

"Well, actually, yes. Yes, I do," Malenko lied.

Angel saw right through him. She stared at him and batted her eyes innocently. "Would you like to hire me? I'd just die if a good looking man like you refused my services."

"Your services, huh? Well, I'd hate for you to die because of me. I'd love for you to be on my arm when I go to the ring."

Angel grinned. "I knew you'd say yes!" she cried excitedly. "Thank you so much!"

She leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek but he turned his head and it became a full liplock. Angel fought the urge to push him away, knowing that if she did he'd work out what she was doing, so she had to wait until Malenko had had enough. When he had, he stared at her, very pleased with himself. Angel decided to play along.

"Wow," she sighed.

"Pretty fantastic, huh?" Malenko gloated.

"Yeah," Angel replied, still in her trance. "You know, I don't even know your name."

"My name?" Malenko questioned. "Malenko. Dean Malenko."

It was all Angel could do to keep from laughing. "You mean like James Bond?"

Malenko nodded self-importantly. "Many people ask me that. I suppose the similarities are uncanny."

Angel looked at him carefully, knowing she couldn't keep this up much longer. "Definitely. So, I'll see you later on, then."

"You bet, baby." Malenko finally stepped back and noticed the nameplate. "Until then, my Angel." He reached out and caressed her face, then finally walked down the hall.

Angel shuddered and rolled her eyes. "What a sleazy asshole. Lita, you'd better appreciate this."

* * * *

"Guess who convinced a sexy young thing to accompany him to the ring?" Malenko announced as he entered the Radicalz locker room.

"Oh, I don't know," Eddie Guerrero replied. "Rikishi, maybe?"

"A broad is a broad is a broad," Chris Benoit said with a shrug.

"Not this one," Malenko protested. "This one is special."

Benoit smirked. "Malenko, who's going to be stupid enough to be in the same space as both you and Lita?"

"Lita's cousin."

"She has a cousin?" Terri cried. "As if one of her wasn't enough."

"Saturn, for once I agree with your bitch," Benoit announced.

"Hey!" Terri cried. "Perry, are you going to let him say that?"

Benoit laughed evilly as Saturn tried to comfort his girlfriend. "Baby, you know Benoit's just jealous because he doesn't have a hot looking woman like you." Within seconds they had their tongues down each other's throats.

Benoit and Guerrero turned back to Malenko. 

"So, who is this cousin, eh?" Eddie asked. "Is she lookin' anything like Lita?"

"You guys have seen her," Malenko informed them. "The girl I made out with on Smackdown. Just another woman who couldn't resist the charm and experience of Malenko." He shrugged. "I can't help it. I'm a ladies man."

Guerrero and Benoit were both frowning.

"That little girl?" Eddie asked. "She's a baby, man."

"She's a babe, more like it. And she wants me. Trust me, if I asked her to, she'd accompany me a lot further than just the ring."

"And you don't even have Latino Heat," Eddie said, amazed. "Imagine what the little mamacita will be willing to do when she meets me, huh? I can have her when you're done with her, right, essa?"

Malenko frowned. "Eddie, I don't even want her. She's just going to help me get Lita."

"How are you figuring that's about to happen?" Eddie asked. "Essa, the chick don't like you. I know, she's loco, but what can you do, eh?"

"Shut the hell up," Malenko scowled. "And she will be mine. Once she sees how well I treat her cousin, she'll realize what she's missing and come crawling to my side. Of course, I might take her back, and then I might not. It all depends how nice I'm feeling."

Benoit was strangely silent. Malenko addressed him.

"Benoit, you saw her, right? She's a hot one."

"Huh? Yeah, whatever. That's enough chatting about broads. Saturn, you me and the bitch have a match to win."

"Perry!" Terri cried, making Benoit regain his good humor. Terri was just too easy, on so many levels.

* * * *

Lita and the Hardyz had just left for the match when Malenko arrived at Angel's office.

"Are you ready to go?"

Angel grinned. "You bet your fine ass, stud."

Malenko pulled his hands from behind his back and handed her flowers and a heart-shaped box of chocolates. "I know Valentine's Day isn't until Wednesday, but I couldn't resist trying to find some things that match your amazing beauty. I tried, but I didn't even come close."

"Thanks," Angel cooed. "That's really sweet of you. I'll just leave them here, okay?"

"No!" Malenko cried. "I mean, you should bring them to the ring so the world can see what a great guy I am, and so all the ladies will be even more jealous that you're on the arm of the sexiest man there."

"You're right, of course," Angel agreed.

"Here, give me your hand." Malenko helped her climb from her office and, grabbing her carefully, placed her from the table and on to the floor, his hands lingering far too long on her backside.

Malenko took the chocolates from her and offered his arm. "Shall we?"

"We shall," Angel smiled, picking up the flowers and linking her other arm through his.

* * * *

The fight had already started when Dean Malenko's music played and he and Angel made their entrance.

"I thought you said you had a match," Angel said, feigning confusion.

"I do. Or rather, we do. You and me. It's no coincidence that your name is Angel, because baby, you and me are a match made in heaven."

Lita had just left the ring and was headed for her corner when she spotted them. 

"What the hell?" she cried, staring at Angel.

"Trust me," Angel mouthed in reply. "Revenge."

"Did you say something?" Malenko asked.

Angel looked at him innocently. "No."

Malenko shrugged. "Must have been the voice of love." He hadn't removed his eyes from Lita, who was doing her best to ignore him.

Angel cringed as Benoit beat the crap out of Jeff, then brought in Saturn for the double team, but she was acting and had to stay in character. Her play wouldn't work unless everyone could see – the Radicalz, Lita, Matt, Jeff, the crowd and the world. So that meant the end of the match. She had to sit tight.

Angel couldn't help the words that escaped her lips as she watched her friend getting annihilated. "Come on, Je…uh, Saturn!"

Malenko didn't notice her mistake. He hadn't noticed much since he'd seen Lita.

Jeff finally caught Saturn with a corkscrew moonsault. Angel cried out. "Yea – ow! That must've hurt."

Jeff tagged in Matt, who continued the assault on Saturn until Benoit broke up the three count. He ran at Matt, who elevated him out of the ring. Seconds later, Jeff took Benoit down again with a flying clothesline. Angel bit her lip to stop from shouting her approval, but she still squealed quietly.

Back in the ring, Matt hit his leg drop on Saturn and removed his shirt, but Terri jumped on his back. Matt shoved her off, then dragged her to her feet.

"Lita!" he cried, pointing to the corner and bringing Terri closer. Lita climbed to the top rope for the hurricanrana but Saturn had gotten to his feet and pushed Terri out of the way, only to have the move performed on him. Matt clotheslined Saturn from the ring as Lita hit the Twist of Fate on Terri. On the ground, Benoit and Saturn had both started on Jeff, so Matt leaped at them from the top rope, taking out all three. Lita also climbed the ropes for a moonsault, landed it and hooked Terri's leg. The referee made the count, one…two…three and the match was over.

"Stay right here," Malenko told Angel, shoving the candy at her and starting down the ramp. Silently, Angel tracked him the whole way.

Saturn jumped into the ring, furious at what had happened to Terri. He lifted Lita into the air and gave her a backbreaker. 

Angel dropped her gifts. Now she was mad.

Malenko had made it into the ring and shoved Saturn. "Perry, that's my woman. Don't touch her."

Saturn scowled at him. "I thought the other one was your woman, you piece of…"

"Cut it out!" Benoit cried, stepping between them.

"But that son of a…" Malenko started.

"I don't wanna hear it," Benoit told him. "They're just broads. You can hit em all you want, for all I care. They ain't worth it."

Terri stepped to Saturn's side and Benoit tried to calm him down as Malenko helped Lita to her feet. He gave her a long look, then shoved her back to the ground.

Angel had been watching just outside the ring. "Oh, now you pay, jackass," she scowled, taking out her sticks and rolling into the ring. One shot to the legs brought Malenko down, but Angel wasn't done, leaping onto his fallen body and pounding him with the sticks as if she was playing the drums. "Don't you ever…ever touch my cousin again. Do you hear me? Ever!"

Suddenly she was grabbed from behind by both Saturn and Benoit, causing her to drop the sticks. They pulled her off Malenko and Saturn had just lifted her for the powerbomb, when Benoit grabbed her away. He stood her on her feet in front of him, glaring deep into her eyes, deciding what to do with her. She had taken down his friend and now she had to pay. Everything else faded away and there was just him and her. Retribution was his, whatever he wanted to do. He was breathing heavily, his hands were on her throat. He was taking too long and he knew it.

"Kill the bitch," Saturn's voice filtered through the haze.

Yes, kill her. Kill the traitorous little whore. The little whore with fearless eyes. Eyes of blue AND green AND brown AND grey.

"Benoit, I swear to God, if you do anything…"

Jeff Hardy. Green eyes, too fearful to even attack and try to release the girl. Still glaring, Benoit's mouth broke into a grimace, then his whole face contorted as if he was struck down by great pain. Breathing loudly, he tightened his hands around her neck, twisted her and threw her in the direction of Jeff Hardy's voice. The whole exchange had taken only a few seconds. To Benoit it seemed like an hour. He was defeated. Not even looking to see if his throw had been accurate, Benoit turned, rolled from the ring and started up the ramp, alone.

Jeff helped Angel to her feet. "You okay?"

Confused, Angel turned to watch Benoit's exit, lifting her hands to her throat. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," she murmured, her voice full of surprise.

In other areas of the ring, Matt was crouched over Lita and Saturn was helping Malenko to stand. 

"Thanks," Malenko said, kicking his legs out to make sure they were working okay. "Saturn, are we cool, man?"

Saturn patted Malenko on the back. "Yeah, we're cool." Together with Terri, the two of them left the ring.

* * * *

After the match, Matt took Lita to the trainer's room and Jeff didn't leave Angel's side. She let him hold her hand, knowing he was worried about her.

"You want to go back to the hotel?" he asked as they reached the locker room.

Angel shook her head. "I better stick around and see if I can get another job. Besides, that way I can make sure Lita's okay."

Jeff nodded. "You know, that wasn't too smart what you did back there, but I'm glad you did it. It was a good plan, even if it did almost come unstuck."

Angel shrugged. "Lita got hurt and I sort of did. I think kissing him worked much better."

Jeff shook his head. "But wasn't beating the crap out of Malenko a whole lot more fun?"

Angel grinned. "It sure was. I might even make it my new hobby."

Jeff laughed and put his arm around her as they reached Angel's office.

"Blackman!" Angel cried. "What can I do for you?"

"Al wants to see you in our locker room. I'm not sure what's going on. You know Al."

Angel grinned. "You bet I do. We better go then. See you, Jeff," she smiled, giving him a hug.

"Bye, Angel. Be careful."

"Always!" Angel called over her shoulder as she ran to keep up with Blackman.

* * * *

Billy Gunn walked down the hall and stopped at Angel's office. The sign was there, but no one seemed to be around.

"Hello?" he called. "Angel, you here? Guess not," he shrugged, continuing towards the ring. Angel probably would have liked this match, too. It was a big one, against Billy's former best friend, one Hunter Hearst Helmsley. Hunter would no doubt be bringing the wife along, so it'd be a good chance for Angel to get herself noticed by the McMahons. 

"Not tonight, apparently," Billy murmured.

* * * *

"Hey Al, you wanted to see me?"

"Yeah, I did, that's right," Al replied, sizing her up. "Hmm, it's probably going to be too big."

Al himself was barely recognizable in a huge white dress shirt with a pillow shoved up it. Over the shirt he wore a black tie and an open red flannel vest and on his right hand was a gym sock with a face drawn on it. He reached for a pile of clothes and picked up a black T-shirt. 

"Here, put this on over what you're wearing."

Angel took the shirt from him. It had a picture of a large hairy man and the words 'Wanted: Dead'. Angel slipped it over her head.

"Yeah, a little big," Al confirmed. "Oh well, doesn't matter. Here, put this on top. Don't do it up." He took off the vest and handed it to her, then watched as she put it on. He nodded slowly. "Yeah, you can wear those pants, just…" he stepped over to her, reached out and mussed up her hair. "There you go, that's pretty good."

"What's going on, Al?" Angel asked, deciding that her friend was having one of his psychotic spells.

"You're my valet, right?"

Angel nodded. "You have another match? Who this time? Big Show?"

Al shook his head. "No, no match. But I do need you to join me in the ring. You up for it?"

Angel nodded.

"Great. Here," he said, handing her a pair of round sunglasses and a tie dye headband. "Head was being moody before and didn't want to get dressed. Can you try?"

Angel grinned. "Sure."

"Thanks, Angel. I don't know what I'd do without you." He turned back to the mirror and put on a mask and a wig, which were integrated together. He stared into the mirror, then gave himself a double thumbs up. "Are you two ready?"

Angel held up Head, which was now wearing the headband and shades.

"You both look great," Al confirmed. "Let's go."

"Al, what are the costumes about?"

Al stared at her. "A tribute. To a great man."

* * * *

Al counseled Angel on their way to the backstage area. "Okay, what I want you to do, during the music, is make guns with your fingers, like your friends the Hardyz, and say 'bang bang'."

Angel tried it with one hand, holding Head with the other. "Bang bang!"

"There you go," Al grinned. "Okay, let's do this."

"What does everybody want?"

"Bang bang!" cried Angel, posing on the stage.

"What does everybody need?"

"Bang bang!"

"What does everybody love?"

"Bang bang!"

"JR, I don't believe this," Jerry Lawler was saying. "Why would Angel Torres want to look like Cactus Jack? Yeesh!"

"Al Snow looks a lot more like Mankind," JR replied. "That's for certain."

"And is that Head meant to be Dude Love? What's wrong with Al Snow? He's sick, JR."

"Well, King, it seems to me that this is a tribute to Mick Foley, in which case I don't think it's crazy at all."

Al made an impassioned plea for Vince McMahon to come to the ring and discuss the unfair firing of Mick Foley while Al had been out injured. The crowd got into it, chanting "Foley! Foley! Foley!"

Al Snow vowed a sit down strike until Vince promised to discuss Foley's firing. Of course, Vince had to respond, strolling down the ramp as his music played. "No chance, that's what you got, no chance in hell."

"Al," Angel murmured. "Is that the boss?"

Al nodded. "Yeah, it is."

Angel's eyes widened. "See you later, Al." She dove from the ring and made her way to the announce table. "Hey."

"Hi Angel," King cooed. "You're not foul-smelling, are you?"

Angel bent her head and sniffed her arm. "I don't think so."

"Well, sit by me then. Woo hoo!"

"Easy there, Tiger," JR called. "We're about to find out what Mr. McMahon has to say. And I have a feeling Al's not going to like it one bit."

"Yeah, Angel, why would you come out here dressed like Mick Foley?" King asked.

Angel shrugged. "Any friend of Al's is a friend of mine."

"But surely you must know what Mr. McMahon thinks about Foley. He hates him!"

"Well, King. Al Snow is my teacher, my mentor and my friend. Of course I'm going to support him. Although I could do without the boss getting mad at me, considering I don't 'officially' work here."

Vince got right in Al's face and ordered him out of the ring or he'd personally throw him out. Al was unmoved. Vince put the microphone down, only to be stopped by the entrance of William Regal. Regal told Vince not to resort to violence, then distracted Al, allowing Vince to give him a low blow.

"Al!" Angel cried as Al fell to the ground and was pounced upon by Regal. "I have to help him!" She jumped to her feet.

"Don't forget about Mr. McMahon," King called after her.

She grabbed the apron and watched in dismay as Regal hit Snow over and over, knowing there wasn't anything she could do to help him. Eventually Vince and Regal decided that Al had had enough. They exited the ring, allowing Angel to jump up by her friend's side. She grabbed him around the shoulders. 

"Al, are you okay?"

"No, I'm really not." Al sat up painfully. "I have to do something about this."

"You tried, Al. What can you do? He literally owns you."

Al turned his head and stared at Angel, his dark eyes filled with inspiration. "I can get Mick Foley. He'll know what to do."


	14. Pedigree!

Title: Pedigree!

Spoilers: 2/15/01

Rating: PG-13 for pretty tough violence

Summary: Chris Benoit likes messing with people's minds and he's locked onto Angel. He's a worthy opponent. Is she up to the challenge?

Author's note: Thanks again for the reviews, guys! Especially Shadow, you're the greatest. :-)

SMACKDOWN! FEBRUARY 15TH, 2001

"So, you guys don't need me tonight?" Angel asked hopefully.

Matt shook her head. "It's really up to you, but I already have Lita. Maybe you can convince her not to come down. God knows I've tried."

"You don't want her there? Why?"

"Two words. Dean Malenko."

"You're right. Well, me and Jeff will be ready for the run in if you need us."

Matt scoffed. "You and Jeff. Someone's really got to teach you to stay out of trouble, you know."

Angel smiled at him innocently. "Me? Trouble?"

"Yeah, not much," Matt grinned. "Not that I'm asking for the run in, but if you do feel the need, make sure you…"

"Remember my sticks, I know. See you later, Matt. And good luck talking Lita out of it. I don't think you can do it."

Matt sighed. "I don't think I can, either."

* * * *

"It's official," Jeff announced, pulling up a chair.

"What is?" Angel asked.

"I went to see the bosses. I don't have a match tonight. That means I can hang with you here. What?" he asked, noticing her frown. "You don't like that idea?"

"It's not that, Jeff," Angel replied gently, not wanting to hurt his feelings. "It's just…I think you scare away my clients."

"Like who?"

"Essa Rios."

"Essa Rios," Jeff scoffed. "Why don't you take a look in your little book and see what Matt has to say about Essa Rios?"

"I already did. I was just making a point."

"Look, I don't need this," Jeff announced, getting to his feet. "Come get me when you actually want to hang out."

"Bye Jeff," Angel sighed. Although a lot of people didn't even know it existed, sometimes Jeff's sensitivity really did get old.

"It's too bad he doesn't understand you, because the two of you make such a nice little couple."

Angel looked up at the sound of the sarcastic voice. "We're not a couple," she said testily.

"No? Hmm. That _is_ interesting. You know what? I don't care."

Angel's frown deepened. "What the hell do you want?"

Chris Benoit was taken aback. "I'm just talking to you, princess. Is that allowed?"

Angel held his gaze. "No, it's not."

Benoit laughed quietly. "You know something, little girl? People don't speak to me like that. You're either very brave or very, very stupid."

Angel nodded up at him. "What are the odds on those? Because I think I'd like a piece each way."

"Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"

"I sure do. An evil, heartless, soulless asshole."

Benoit smirked. "Exactly. So don't you think you should show me some respect?"

"You know, I don't see that happening. Look, Mr. Ben-oyt."

"It's Benoit."

"I know," Angel smiled. "Look, I really don't have time for this."

Benoit looked around the hall. "I'm sorry, I can't hear you over all the other wrestlers clamoring for your services."

Angel gave him a sarcastic smile. "Just tell me what you want and then leave."

"You mean a smart girl like you hasn't worked that out yet? I am disappointed. You're a valet for hire. I want to hire you to be my valet. Do you understand that?"

"You're kidding me."

"With an attitude like that you're blaming Jeff Hardy for the fact you don't have any clients?"

"No," Angel said emphatically.

"Excuse me?"

"I said no. I'm not going to be your valet."

"Your sign says 'all offers considered'. You haven't even heard my offer yet."

"Unless it's your severed head on a plate it's not going to be happening."

Benoit smirked. "Cute."

Angel still tried to stare him down. "What's your offer?"

"How about…"

"I've considered it and still say no," Angel cut in. "So I suggest you leave before I tap on this wall and invite my friends to kick your ass."

"Angel, do we have a problem here?" Al Snow asked as he and Blackman arrived on the scene.

"I don't know," Angel replied. "Do we?"

Benoit backed off, hands in the air. "Okay, I'll leave. But answer me one question, little girl. What color are your eyes?"

Al gave Blackman a strange look but Angel was still staring at Benoit. "That depends," she replied. "On how I'm feeling."

"How about when you're scared? When you're so frightened the blood is racing through your veins, your pulse is thundering, you break into a cold sweat and you almost want to vomit. What then, little girl? What color are your eyes?"

Angel nodded slowly, not breaking eye contact, not even blinking. "I don't know," she said evenly. "It hasn't happened yet."

* * * *

"Hey Angel, I missed you again on Monday."

"Billy, yeah, I know. I think I was probably dressing up as someone called Cactus Jack at the time."

Billy nodded thoughtfully. "I always thought he was better than Mankind because he had that 'bang bang' thing. Though others would probably disagree. I mean, Mankind did have Mr. Socko and I think most of us would've gotten the Mandible Claw at one time or another." He looked at Angel and realized he'd gone off on a tangent again. "Anyway, I'm not booked for anything tonight, but I'll stick around and see what happens. If I do get a match…"

"I know. You'll come get me." She gave him a friendly smile. "One of these days we'll work together, Billy."

Billy smiled back. "We sure will. I'll see you later." He left her office and headed for his locker room. As she watched him go, Angel noticed someone walking in the other direction, towards her.

"Al, where are you going?"

Al was still dressed in street clothes and lugging his gym bag. "I decided to go see my friend Mick Foley. You should come along. He'll love you."

"No thanks, Al. I think I'll stay here."

"Is it the smell?" Al asked. "'Cause you get used to it after a while, I swear."

Angel smiled. "No, I just think I'll stick around and maybe beat the crap out of Dean Malenko again."

Al nodded. "Well, that sounds like a lot of fun. If we were anywhere but Long Island I might join you for that."

"That's okay, Al. Do you need me to look after Head?"

"No, Head's okay with me tonight. For some reason, Mick Foley likes Head. Most people don't. Steve Blackman, for instance."

"Well, I do," Angel told him.

"I know," Al grinned. "That's why you're my protégé." He shouldered his bag. "Well, I better get going."

"Have fun," Angel said. "And say hi to your friend for me."

Al nodded. "I'll do that. See you tomorrow morning."

* * * *

After Al left, Angel scrawled a 'back in 5' message and left her office. She walked towards the entrance and stopped someone who was wearing an Attitude shirt.

"Hey, do you know where I can find a list of tonight's matches?"

"Yeah, there's a few around. One by Mr. McMahon's office, one in the catering room. Just a minute. Hey, Paul. You got a list of tonight's matches?"

The second guy nodded and patted himself down, finally locating a folded piece of paper in his pocket.

"Here you go," the first guy said, handing it to her.

"Thanks," she smiled, turning to leave. She read as she walked. Matt Hardy vs. Perry Saturn. She knew that one already. Then she found the one she was looking for. Chris Benoit vs. Stone Cold Steve Austin. What the heck? Frowning deeply, Angel entered her friends' locker room.

"Okay," she announced. "Who's the last person you'd expect to ask me to be their valet?"

"The Rock," Matt replied.

"Test?" Jeff guessed.

"Ivory," Lita put in.

"No, no and no."

"Who then?" Lita asked.

"Chris Benoit."

"What?" cried all three in unison.

"Relax, I said no."

Jeff clenched his fists. "Did he try to lay a hand on you?"

"No, Jeff, I'm fine. He just asked me to be his valet, then when I said no he asked what color my eyes are."

Lita frowned. "That's really weird. And very unlike Benoit. He didn't try to chop you across the chest?"

Angel shook her head. "Not even once. He was trying to scare me but you get that a lot around here. But that wasn't even the strange thing. Check out who he's facing." She handed them the list.

"Stone Cold?" Matt cried.

"Yeah, I know. What do you suppose that means?"

"That Benoit wants him to give you a Stunner," Jeff replied. "For some reason he won't hurt you himself, so he needs someone else to do it."

"That's just what I don't get. Everyone tells me how brutal Benoit is. That he's a destructive machine. Well, twice he's had his chance to destroy me, but twice he's barely touched me. Do you think if he was so tough he'd need to get someone else to hurt me?"

Lita shrugged. "Honey, I don't know what to tell you. Just be careful of Benoit. If he snaps, he could kill you."

"Lita, that's exactly the reason I don't want you at ringside," Matt cut in. "Malenko's going to be mad after what happened on Raw and I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Matt, we've been through this. I can take care of myself."

"Not with Malenko, you can't," Matt replied softly. Angel noticed the look of pain on his face. He'd confided to her once that he knew just how lucky he was to have Lita. Millions of guys wanted her, and she was his. He really didn't like pissing her off.

"God Matt, I'm part of Team eXtreme too. If you're in the ring, if it's at all possible, I want to be there for you. I'm part of this team too, you know."

"That's right, you are," Jeff spoke up. "I'll go out there with you. If Malenko tries anything on Lita, I'll have her back."

"And I'll have Jeff's," Angel added.

Matt nodded slowly. "Alright. A network. Just be sure it works."

* * * *

Angel watched the match on the backstage monitor. It was relatively close with both Saturn and Matt getting in some good hits.

"Get out of my way, I have to get out there." 

The gravelly voice was unmistakable. Angel turned and got right in his face.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?' she demanded, rising up to her full height, which was slightly more than his.

"Get the hell out of my way," Malenko replied, shoving her to the ground and stepping over her.

"Hey, that wasn't very nice!" one of the techies cried, jumping to Angel's aid.

Malenko spun and glared at him. "You want a piece of me too? Yeah, didn't think so."

"What a total jackass," the techie scowled, helping Angel to her feet. "You okay, ma'am?"

Angel broke into a strange but knowing smile. "I will be soon." She thanked the techie for his help and stepped out onto the stage to find that the match was over and Matt had won.

Down on the floor, Malenko had grabbed Lita and kissed her. Angel ran quietly down the ramp towards them. Malenko broke away and stared at Lita with a smug smile, exactly like he'd done after kissing Angel just days earlier. Glaring at him, Lita reared back and slapped him across the face.

Angel saw and heard the impact and cringed. 'Ooh,' she thought. 'That had to hurt.'

Dejected, Malenko took a long look at Lita (as Jeff brought Saturn down with a clothesline), then started up the ramp.

Angel was standing on the barrier, waiting for him.

"Aaaaaaaaah!" she cried, raising her sticks above her head in a copy of Matt's leg drop signal. Malenko looked up at the sound, only to find Angel leaping towards him. He raised his hands but could do nothing as Angel brought him down in a hurricanrana. She crouched nimbly over his fallen body, waiting for him to make a move.

"The first time was for Lita," she hissed. "But this one's all about me."

Malenko knew she was waiting to take his legs out, so he thrust out his right hand, trying to grab her by the throat. Angel was ready, slapping his arm with one of her sticks, making him cry out and withdraw it.

"Get up!" Angel cried.

Malenko started to stumble up and Angel immediately swung her sticks and sent him flying onto his backside again.

"Get up!"

This time Malenko didn't move.

"Dammit, Malenko, get up!"

There was a rumble in Malenko's throat and a second later he spat in her face.

Temporarily blinded, Angel still knew where Malenko was and slammed her sticks down over his knees.

"Get up!" she screamed, wiping her face.

Malenko was writing in pain.

Angel hit him once more. "I told you to get your ass up."

"Dean!" Lita's voice carried across the loudspeaker, causing Angel to look up. She climbed behind Malenko and, holding each end of a stick, caught him underneath the throat and jerked him to his feet.

"My cousin's talking to you, it's polite to listen," she snapped into his ear. Looking down the ramp, she noticed that Saturn was up and headed towards her. She struck Malenko across the back of the knees once more. 

"Make sure you listen carefully," she advised, running down the ramp. Saturn ran towards her but she ducked at the critical moment and dove through his legs. She then scrambled to her feet and joined Lita, Matt and Jeff in the ring.

Lita told Malenko that their feud had to stop and that she wanted to take him on in the ring on Monday. Matt and Jeff were less than impressed.

"No, Lita. What are you thinking?" Matt cried. "You can't wrestle him!"

"Of course I can. Don't worry."

"Don't worry?" It was Jeff's turn. "Lita, he's pissed you rejected him. He could kill you."

"But Angel's allowed to attack him whenever she wants?" Lita protested.

"That's different," Matt told her. "Angel's psychotic."

Lita glared at him. "Yeah? Well, maybe it runs in the family." With that, she rolled from the ring, not caring who joined her. Angel was immediately by her side, putting an arm around her.

"They should worry about you killing him," she said.

Lita grinned. "Thanks, Ange. What did you do to him, anyway? He looked almost dead already."

Angel shrugged. "My second successful hurricanrana and several stick shots. You said he had knee surgery, right?"

Lita nodded as they stepped through the curtain and reached the hall. 

"Well," Angel told her. "I think he's currently having deja vu."

Lita grinned. "Have I ever told you I love having you around?"

"Aw, how damn touching."

Angel turned to look directly into the cold stare of Chris Benoit.

Jeff stepped up, protecting her. "Don't even think about it, Benoit." Matt stepped up beside him and folded his arms.

Benoit put his hands in the air. "I'm on my way to a match which may just put me back in main event contention, where I belong. Why would I want to waste my time with a couple of permanent midcarders like the two of you?"

Jeff still glared at him. "I'm just making sure you don't try anything."

Benoit smirked. "In your fantasies, Hardy." He turned back to Angel. "One last chance, little girl. If you want to join me, the match is yours."

"Not even if you bent down, puckered up and kissed my ass," Angel scowled.

Benoit nodded, still smirking. "Your choice. But remember that I offered." He walked past the four of them, towards the backstage area. They turned and watched him go, not trusting him not to attack while their backs were turned. But the only thing they saw was Benoit's own back as he continued on his way.

"I don't get it," Lita admitted.

"_You_ don't get it?' Angel cried. "After what I just did to Malenko he still didn't do anything to me."

"Maybe he likes you," Matt shrugged.

Lita glared at him. "Matt, with the Dean situation, how can you even suggest that?"

"Yeah," Jeff added. "It's nothing alike. Malenko is a lech, Benoit is a robot. He doesn't even have a heart, let alone know how to follow it."

"I don't know any better than you do, okay?" Matt told them as they reached the locker room. "The only thing I do know is that I don't like it one little bit. Angel, maybe Jeff should stay out here with you in case Benoit starts anything after the match."

Angel shook her head. "I'll be fine. And you guys will be right in here. If he does anything I'll tap or scream or something."

Matt looked over at Jeff, who nodded slowly. 

"Even better," he said. "If Benoit approaches you, run, either to us, or the Hollys or Blackman."

Angel nodded. "Okay."

"Watch yourself, Ange," Lita warned as she and the Hardyz entered the room. "Benoit's worse than Malenko."

Angel climbed into her office and pulled out her bag, which she'd hidden in a dark corner of the closet. She found the TV and switched it on. Benoit was just making his entrance. His eyes were intense and focused, his muscles hard and smooth. Jeff was right – he was a robot. Angel watched him for a while, her face scrunching into a scowl.

"You want me, Benoit?" she murmured. "You got me."

* * * *

Lita and the Hardyz were watching the match on a TV in their locker room. No sooner had Benoit entered the ring than another entrance song played – but it wasn't Stone Cold's.

"That's my music!" Lita cried. "Am I supposed to be out there?"

"There's your answer," Matt said sullenly as Jeff cried, "Angel?"

"Dammit," Lita sighed. "Ever since that ring bell to the head I've really wondered if she's okay."

Jeff jumped to his feet. "I'm going to talk some sense into her."

Matt grabbed his arm. "No, Jeff. You don't want to get in the middle of Benoit and Austin."

Jeff shrugged him off. "Then I'm going to wait backstage. If I can see her in the ring and I protect her on the way back, I might stop her from getting hurt."

Matt nodded. "You be careful too."

Jeff touched fists with him and then Lita. "You bet."

* * * *

Angel strode purposefully to the ring. She looked right up at Benoit, smiled and waved. Benoit cocked his head and stared at her as she made her way to his corner. The sound of glass shattering filled his ears and he spun around to watch the entrance of his opponent.

"Oh yeah!" Angel cried. "Let's go, Austin!"

Benoit turned back to her. She held eye contact and joined with the crowd as they chanted Austin's name. Austin's first attack took Benoit by surprise, as did Angel's loud cheer. It took him some time to refocus and, every time Austin got a good shot in, Angel would scream, applaud and jump up and down. It was too bad Austin wasn't paying her, because this was one good valeting job.

To Benoit's credit, he had his moments, causing a red welt to appear on Austin's chest after several chops. But he was really no match for Austin, who was in total control. 

The match changed with the appearance of a fourth party – Austin's mortal enemy, Triple H. He distracted Austin long enough for Benoit to mount an attack, but then battled back. Triple H distracted the referee and put a chair in the ring. Stepping back, Benoit trod on it and turned to give Triple H his trademark smirk. 

Triple H smiled back. He might not be able to hurt Austin, but Benoit sure could. Benoit had his eyes back on Austin while Triple H tried to distract the referee again. Neither of them saw Angel leap into the ring, grab the char and leave again. When the ref was distracted, Benoit turned to pick up the chair, only to find it wasn't there. He looked over at Angel, who held it up for him to see. That moment was enough. Austin grabbed Benoit's head and gave him a Stone Cold Stunner. He made the cover and the ref, now back in the mix, made the three count.

Triple H was livid. He jumped onto the ring apron, knowing he couldn't touch Austin but wanting to desperately. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Angel, who was celebrating Austin's victory. So that was why his plan hadn't worked. He didn't know what the girl was doing helping Austin and he didn't care. If he couldn't touch Austin, maybe this would be just as good. He walked towards her, a furious look on his face.

Angel saw the look and knew she was in trouble. She raised the chair to defend herself, but Triple H shoved it into her chest, making her tumble backwards to the ground. But Triple H wasn't done yet. Reaching down, he grabbed Angel by the neck and lifted her to her feet. Then he put her head between his legs, looped her arms behind her back and collapsed his legs, slamming her face into the chair. He looked up into the ring and caught Austin's eye, then pointed down at Angel and made the throat-slitting action.

"You're next, Austin," he grinned. "You're next."

* * * *

Jeff Hardy sprinted down the ramp, past Triple H, then around the ring, past Stone Cold, past Benoit. He got down on his knees next to Angel's fallen body.

"Angel!" he cried, rolling her over gently. 

The impact of the chair had busted open her eyebrow again. Her eyes were closed but she was conscious and crying quietly.

Jeff clutched her head to his chest. "Angel, why did you come out here?"

"Jeff," she sobbed. "What _was_ that? What happened to me?"

"You got pedigreed," Jeff replied, stroking her hair and using his other hand to try and stop her bleeding.

Angel didn't reply, just let him hold her as the tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Where do you hurt?" Jeff asked softly.

"My face…my head…my neck."

"Your neck?" Jeff cried worriedly. "I shouldn't have moved you."

"It's okay. It's just sore. It's more my face."

"We have to get you to the trainer's room," Jeff decided. "Loop your arms around my neck."

Angel did as she was told and Jeff picked her up in a fireman's hold.

In the ring, Benoit was finally getting up after the Stunner. He looked down into the stormy face of Jeff Hardy.

"I don't care who actually did this," Jeff spat. "You're to blame."

Benoit held his gaze and formed a scowl, but his smirk was missing, a fact that went unnoticed by most people.

* * * *

"Hey, can I get someone to look at my friend?" Jeff cried, entering the trainer's room with Angel in his arms.

"Sure, put her down over here."

Dean Malenko, who was receiving treatment to his knee, looked over at Angel with a smirk. "What the hell happened to her?"

"Go to hell, Malenko," Jeff scowled.

Malenko feigned concern. "No, really. It looks pretty bad. What happened?"

Jeff narrowed his eyes. "Not that it's any of your business but she got a Pedigree onto a steel chair."

"Oh!" Malenko broke into an evil laugh. He pulled his legs away from the paramedic who was working on his knees. "You know what? I think I can leave now. I suddenly feel much better." 

The medic backed off and let Malenko stand. His knees almost buckled, causing him to stumble forward.

"Yeah, it hurts," he admitted to Jeff. "But not half as much as she must." Chuckling, he left the room.

"Jackass," Jeff muttered after him. He turned back to Angel who was being asked countless questions – her name, the date, what she'd had for breakfast.

"You're doing real good, Angel," Jeff encouraged her, sweeping a few short strands of hair off her face. Luckily she'd stopped bleeding.

The medic checked her movement, then spoke to Jeff. "I don't think we need to hospitalize her. She doesn't seem to be concussed and while she is in pain, she does seem to have full movement. I suggest you take her and put her to bed, but keep an eye on her in case she develops blurred vision or sudden hearing loss or starts vomiting."

Jeff nodded. "Thank you. So, 'Gel, you ready to go back to the hotel?"

"Am I ever," Angel replied, hoping the painkillers would kick in soon.

"Okay." Jeff smiled at her. "Stay right here and I'll go get our stuff." 

He raced off, only to return a few minutes later with a frown on his face and a man in tow.

"Angel, we have a problem," he told her.

"What?" Angel asked.

"Angel Torres?" the man questioned.

"Yes."

"Please follow me. Mr. McMahon would like to see you in his office immediately."

* * * *

"Angel Torres?" Vince McMahon asked as she entered his office.

"Yes, sir."

"Please take a seat. Now, you know who I am, correct?"

Angel nodded. "Yes, sir. You're Mr. McMahon."

"That's right. But are you also aware that I know who you are? I don't know what you've been playing at, Angel, but if you think that you've been wandering around unnoticed for the past month, I'm afraid you're mistaken."

Angel didn't know how to answer him, so she chose her words carefully. "I never meant to hurt anyone."

"Oh no?" Vince frowned. "Well, I'm not sure Dean Malenko would agree with you on that."

His words stung Angel, despite the fact that her painkillers were starting to work. She now knew she was in trouble.

"Now, it's not as though we ban visitors, especially family members," Vince continued. "In fact, five members of Kurt Angle's family joined us for Christmas and had a fabulous time. But that's an isolated incident. You, Angel, have been around for a month now. And we might even be tolerant of that ordinarily but when you start attacking superstars, we know it's time to put a stop to it. Now, I'm a fair man, so I'll ask for your opinion. What do you think I should do with you?"

Angel bit her lip and shook her head. "I don't know."

Vince folded his hands and nodded. "Okay, a different question. What do you want from me?"

Angel was taken aback. "I'm sorry?"

"What do you want from the WWF? In short, why are you still here?"

"I want a contract. I want to be a wrestler."

Vince raised his eyebrows. "Well, surely you've been told that there are better ways. There are fine wrestling schools throughout the nation and we send scouts along to them regularly. Or, you could audition for Tough Enough, a program we're running with MTV during the summer. The winner gets a World Wrestling Federation contract."

"I'm being coached by Al Snow and Steve Blackman," Angel informed him. "That's why I have to stay around."

Vince nodded thoughtfully. "What I should do is have you escorted from the building and ask you not to return, then equip security with your picture to be sure you don't. How you get trained is your problem, not mine."

Angel felt the tears stinging her eyes. "Yes, sir. You're right."

"But I'm not going to," Vince continued.

"You're not?"

"Not yet, anyway. Perhaps before tonight I may have, but I saw my son-in-law Triple H give you a Pedigree earlier. While I don't tolerate you attacking my superstars, I equally don't approve of my superstars attacking you. So, in the interest of fairness, I'm prepared to make a deal with you. If you can prove that people want you around, I won't have you banned. Now, that sounds fair, don't you think?"

Angel nodded. There had to be a catch. "What about Malenko?"

"If you prove yourself, I will ensure that you have all of the same rights as any of my superstars. Therefore, if you take offence to someone or something, you can do what you will. However, I will not be able to offer protection if someone takes offence to you."

"That sounds fair."

"Yes, I know. But you understand this won't be an official contract and I won't be paying you."

"Can I still earn money as a valet?"

Vince raised his hands. "What you will."

Angel nodded thoughtfully. "So, how do I prove myself?"

Vince smiled. "Smart girl," he said approvingly. "What I have in mind is a petition. Now, I understand that you won't have met everyone yet, and not everyone you have met likes you, that's just the way it is. If you can get me fifteen signatures from fifteen different superstars who want to keep you around, you can stay."

"Fifteen?" Angel asked.

"Fifteen. That's my offer. Do you accept?"

"How long do I have to do this?"

"Hmm, well I have appointments that will keep me away from Raw, so why don't we say, after Smackdown? That's a week. That seems fair, wouldn't you say?"

Angel nodded. What other choice did she have? "Okay. One week."

"I look forward to seeing you again." Vince reached out and shook her hand. "It was a delight to meet you, Miss Torres, and I wish you all the best."

"Thank you, sir," Angel murmured. She left the office to find Lita and the Hardyz waiting for her. 

"What happened?" Lita asked.

"I need fifteen signatures from people who want to keep me around," Angel said numbly. "Do I know fifteen people?"

Jeff smiled and put an arm around her. "Only fifteen? Angel, this is not going to be a problem. Trust me."

Angel stared at him fearfully. She hoped he was right.


	15. Man Of Her Dreams?

Title: Man Of Her Dreams?

Rating: PG-13 for adult themes

Summary: A dream of longing or just a dream of too long together?

SUNDAY NIGHT HEAT, FEBRUARY 18TH, 2001

"Mmm, Jeff," Angel murmured as the last slivers of sleep evaporated away. Her eyelids fluttered open and she met with the sight of someone else's eyes staring back at her.

"Jeff?" she asked, disoriented.

"Wrong answer. Although I, too, enjoy the wonders of hair dye from time to time."

"Lita!" Angel cried, pulling herself up so that she was sitting. "Do you often watch me sleep?"

"No, but then you don't often wake me up by screaming the name of one of my best friends, so I think I'm justified."

"What?" Angel asked, puzzled.

"Let me give you a demonstration. Oh, Jeff! Yes, Jeff! More, Jeff!"

Angel held up her hand. "Okay, I got it. But I never did that."

Lita grinned suggestively. "You did too."

Angel shook her head. "Impossible."

"Okay," Lita said thoughtfully. "Why don't you tell me what you dreamed last night?"

"What I…I don't remember. There was something about…" She suddenly went pale.

"See, I told you. No kidding, I thought he was in here with you but when I checked, sadly, you were alone."

"Is that so surprising?" Angel snapped. "I mean, Tim and me haven't broken up."

"Does Tim know you dream about other men?"

"Li, it was a dream. It doesn't mean anything. Actually, what it means is that me and Jeff are spending too much time together."

"No, it means you want to spend even more time together," Lita replied, accentuating the last word with a raise of her eyebrows.

"I'm serious, Lita," Angel insisted. "It happens a lot. In my last year of high school I was doing really bad in economics so I got this tutor, Boyd was his name. He was this big time skinny know-it-all with bad skin who often forgot to shave, and not in a good way. It's not that I hated him, apathy was more the name of the game. So, anyway, one night he was the leading man in my dream. I was mortified."

"So, what happened?" Lita asked. "Did you and Boydo get the hook up?"

Angel shook her head. "No. I made it to my exam, got an 'A' and never saw him again, and never dreamed about him either. To say I have no regrets would be an understatement."

"And yet you remember him well enough to tell this story."

Angel shrugged. "Do you forget the stars of your sex dreams?"

"I don't have to dream," Lita said matter-of-factly. "I have Matt."

"And I have Tim," Angel added. "Why does everyone think me and Jeff are going at it?"

"I know you're not," Lita told her. "But have you ever thought that the time you spend making excuses would be better spent making out?"

Angel stared at her expressionlessly. "Pass me the phone."

Lita grabbed it for her. "Why, are you going to call Jeff? 'Cause he's right next door, you could just go wake him up."

"No," Angel replied evenly, finger poised over the keypad. "I'm going to call Tim."

Lita sighed. "Well, I hope you intend paying for that call."

"Prepaid calling card," Angel replied as her call connected. "Hello, Tim?" she asked, breaking into a smile. "Yeah, it's me. How are you? I miss you too, baby. I know, yeah, it's good, but I wish you were here. Yes, I really do…"

Lita rolled her eyes and got to her feet. That tone absolutely sickened her. She was sure glad she and Matt weren't like that.

"Give Tim my love," she called over her shoulder as she headed for the door.

* * * *

"Who is it?" Matt slurred as he opened the door. 

Lita pushed him inside, kicked the door closed and kissed him passionately.

When they broke apart, Matt just stared at her and blinked. "I don't know what that was about," he said finally. "But I sure liked it."

Lita grinned at him and pulled him in for another kiss. "I had some inspiration this morning."

"You did?" Matt asked, looking her up and down in the dim light from his bedside lamp. "I see you've started wearing pajamas again."

Lita shrugged. "I kind of have to now Angel's around. Besides, I can't walk around naked all the time. That'd make me the Kat," she finished, just as Matt said, "Yeah, 'cause then you'd be the Kat." They grinned at each other for a while.

"So, what was the inspiration?"

Lita smiled. "I have a secret. And it's all for Jeffy!" She spun around to see his motionless body still lying in bed.

"He's sleeping," Matt shrugged. "You know Jeff – he could sleep through an earthquake."

Lita nodded. "I'll just have to wake him up then, 'cause this is good."

"Your funeral," Matt told her as she jumped on Jeff's bed.

"Jeff, wake up. I have something to tell you."

"Argh!" Jeff groaned. "Lita, piss off!" He tried to slap her away but she wasn't budging.

"Trust me, Jeff. You want to hear this."

"I want to hear silence," Jeff muttered, burying his head under his pillow.

"Come on, Jeff," Lita insisted, grabbing at the pillow. "If you don't wake up I can't tell you the secret."

"How old are you, thirteen?" Jeff's muffled but highly annoyed voice issued from under the pillow.

"Suit yourself," Lita shrugged, getting off him. "I'll tell Matt instead." She pushed Matt up against the door and whispered in his ear as Jeff removed the pillow just enough so that he could watch them with one eye.

Matt broke into a grin. "Really?" he chuckled. "That _is_ good!"

Jeff threw the pillow across the room and sat up. "Alright! I'm awake. Now, what is it?"

"You had your chance," Lita scolded him.

"Aw, forget it," Jeff sighed, flopping back onto the bed and covering his eyes with one arm. 

"Lita, just put the poor guy out of his misery," Matt advised.

Lita stepped back over to Jeff and crouched down by his head. "Last night," she whispered. "You were the man of Angel's dreams. And from what I was hearing you were very, very good."

Jeff removed his arm and looked at her, puzzled. "Angel's having dirty dreams about me?"

Lita nodded slowly.

Jeff broke into a smile, then eyed her skeptically. "How do you know it was me?"

"You want a demonstration?" Lita asked, before giving a repeat performance of what she'd said to Angel earlier.

Matt shuffled his feet. "You know, in some bizarre way that actually turns me on."

Lita spun to face him. "That's because you love your brother a little too much."

Jeff rolled over and buried his face in the mattress. "It's just a damn dream. It doesn't mean anything."

"Not true," Matt called out. "While she's dreaming of you, she's not dreaming of Ben."

"It's Tim," Lita informed them.

"As the Rock would say, it doesn't matter what his name is!" Matt cried. "But trust me, Jeff, being Angel's dream stud is not going to hurt your chances one bit."

Jeff, who was still lying face down, broke into a deep sigh. "I'll believe it when I see it."

* * * *

"Good morning, guys," Angel said cheerfully as she entered the gym. "Are we ready to go?" She'd spoken to Tim until the very last minute before heading to training and she now felt fantastic.

"Sure," Al Snow replied. "Let's start with some stretches, then you can go for a run on the treadmill."

Angel nodded, checking out Al's new shirt. "Commissioner Snow?" she asked. "You're serious about this whole commissioner thing?"

Al grinned as Blackman shook his head, exasperated. "I sure am. As Mick said, it's the perfect way to get back at Vince. But that reminds me, I have a whole sack of buttons for you to hand out."

"No problem," Angel told him. "I'll keep them on my desk when I'm waiting for valet clients."

"Speaking of which, how's the petition going?"

Angel shrugged. "I still only have you, Lita, Jeff and Matt. But I'm not too worried yet. I'm having lunch with the Hollys before Heat so hopefully that's three more."

Al nodded. "Any clients tonight, yet?"

Angel shook her head. "Not yet, but the Hollys might have a match so we'll see. Now, shush, I've gotta run."

Angel did her usual five miles on the treadmill, then some weights. Blackman took her for weapons, then it was time for ring work with Al. 

"We'll start off with some hip tosses today," Al suggested. He ran at her and she tried to turn him, sending him flying forward onto his stomach. 

"Dammit!" she cried, realizing she'd done it wrong.

"That was a drop toe hold," Al told her.

"I know that," Angel sighed. "Try it again."

After several more failed hip tosses, Angel had had enough. "Can't I try some moonsaults?"

"Okay, just a few. I know you can land those."

Angel performed three moonsaults, two of which she landed perfectly. On the second of them she completely missed Al, but still landed it without hurting herself.

"You think you're ready to try a senton bomb?" Al asked after the third.

Angel shook her head. "I would, but I value my neck and back a little too much."

From another area of the room came an evil laugh. Angel looked up to discover that it belonged to Chris Benoit. She scowled at him and he smirked back, neither of them willing to break eye contact.

"…Angel?" Al Snow's voice finally reached her ears.

"Hmm?" she asked, spinning around.

"Suplexes?" Al asked again.

Angel nodded, regaining her concentration. "Can we try some belly to backs, because I think if I twist my body at the right moment, I can theoretically pull off a modified hurricanrana head scissors type thing."

Al nodded. "Let's try it, then."

First suplex – bam – Angel's back hit the canvas. Second – bam – she hit the deck again. Third – bam. Fourth – bam. Fifth, sixth, seventh – bam, bam, bam.

"I think that's enough of those for today," Al told her after the seventh, which had also taken a lot out of him. "We'll try again some other time."

Angel nodded, dejected and sore. "Yeah, I don't think I can take anymore today."

Benoit had found the whole thing very amusing. 

Angel turned to glare at him. "Do you have a problem?"

Benoit shook his head slowly. "I'm simply checking out your form."

"This is a private training session," Al Snow informed him, stepping up beside Angel.

"And the gym is open for use by all hotel patrons," Benoit shot back.

Al rolled his eyes. "Try to ignore him. Belly to bellys now?"

Angel shook her head. "Clotheslines and takedowns. I need to work on my rope skills."

"Okay, but try to mix it up a bit. Never get predictable or you're gone."

Angel nodded. "Let's go." 

She and Al flew into the ropes on opposite edges of the ring. Angel had a lot of trouble with the turn and by the time she got to the middle, Al went straight through her with a clothesline. She jumped straight back to her feet.

"Go again!" she cried.

Al stopped in the middle. "And, go."

Again they flew, but this time Angel hit the ropes with some speed and was first back. She stopped still and, as Al flew at her, grabbed him and used his own momentum to carry them into a DDT. 

"Better!" Al cried, rubbing his chin for a second. "Go again."

This time, Angel planned to duck through his legs and pull him down for a powerbomb, but he caught her and began to lift her for the back body drop. Somehow she got her legs around and brought him down for the hurricanrana.

"Man," Al muttered, taking a second to clear his head. "I'm going to have to stop going easy on you."

Angel grinned, breathing heavily. "Two more?" she suggested.

Al nodded. "Let's go."

When they met, Al again bent over to raise her for the back body drop, but Angel flew high off the ropes, right over him, then spun him into a rollup. 

Al pushed her off easily. "Great," he said. "Now, if you can keep me there we might have something."

Angel grinned. "Last one. And go." 

She was trying for a flying clothesline, something the Rock performed perfectly, night after night, but something she herself was terrible at. Unfortunately, this time it was Al's turn to duck. She flew right over to him, right through the ropes and landed on the floor with a thud.

"Shit!" she cried as Al leaped out after her.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, believe it or not, only my pride is injured." She heard a sound and looked up to see Benoit giving her a slow, sarcastic clap.

"Very impressive," he told her.

Angel narrowed her eyes at him, but Al spun her around to face him instead.

"Circumstances being what they are, do you want to call it a day?"

Angel shook her head. "One more thing. Go lie in the ring like I'm about to give you a moonsault."

Al nodded and climbed into the ring. Angel followed him, then turned to Benoit and thrust her hands into the air. Still glaring at him, she climbed the ropes, then turned around. Giving Benoit one last scowl, she spread her arms and began to fall in a copy of his flying headbutt. But while she hadn't been paying attention, Al had gotten to his feet and caught her mid-flight. He spun her around his head into a devastating powerslam, which knocked the wind right out of her.

"That's the lesson for today," Al said, standing over her. "I don't care who's standing at ringside, wanting to intimidate you. Never, ever take your eyes off your opponent."

Angel sat up and looked for Benoit again.

"Now, that's some good advice," he smirked, before turning and finally exiting, leaving Angel a painful, exhausted, angry mess.


	16. The Visitor

Title: The Visitor

Rating: PG-13 for language, violence, relatively strong adult themes

Spoilers: 2/19/01, the date Team eXtreme fans will remember forever ;-P

Summary: Angel needs fifteen signatures before Smackdown. Can she do it?

RAW IS WAR, FEBRUARY 19TH, 2001

The next morning, at training, Benoit showed up again. This time, Angel was in the middle of working with a kendo stick, while Blackman looked on and Al practiced alone.

Benoit stood in the doorway, watching, that intense look on his face. He didn't say a word and it was some time before anyone noticed he was there. Al saw him out of the corner of his eye, jumped from the ring and walked right up to him.

"No, we're not repeating yesterday. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "And I'm going to have to ask you to get out of my face before I break yours."

Al scowled and put his hands on his hips. "You think I'm afraid of you, Benoit?"

"Yeah, actually, I do. If you weren't you'd actually do something instead of standing around yakking all day."

Al frowned as Angel and Blackman stepped up behind him.

Benoit nodded, eyebrows raised. "You talk until your bodyguards arrive. Aren't you lucky?"

"Leave, Benoit," Blackman said quietly.

"Benoit raised his hands. "I know, this is _your_ house," he mocked. "But I'm not here to see you, I came to see your student."

"We know what you're doing here," Blackman told him in a rare display of eloquence. "The question is, why are you here?"

Angel tapped the end of the kendo stick on the ground. "I'd like to know that, too. What do you want from me, Benoit?" she asked, holding his gaze as she gave Blackman a little push. "I thought I made it perfectly clear I wanted nothing to do with you."

"That was before you accompanied me to the ring," Benoit challenged.

Angel frowned. "Now I see why you and Malenko are such good friends. I wasn't in your corner. I was in Stone Cold's."

Benoit blinked as a voice came from behind him. 

"I'm going to ask you one more time to leave."

Benoit turned to look at Blackman and in that instant, Angel threw the kendo stick. Benoit spun to face Angel, noticed that the stick was gone, then turned back to Blackman, who now held the stick in both hands. Blackman nodded at Angel, who pulled out her fighting sticks and first took out Benoit's legs, then crisscrossed them, tearing up his body. As Benoit spun and tried to fight back, Blackman brought the kendo stick down over his head, breaking the stick in two. Blackman nodded at Angel again and she crouched down, put the sticks between Benoit's legs, and threw him out the door.

Al and Blackman ran against the door and Angel locked it.

"You warned him twice," she shrugged at Blackman.

Blackman grabbed her shoulder and held up part of the broken stick. "I think we're done with weapons for today."

* * * *

"Hi Angel, how are you?"

Angel smiled as she looked up from her appointment book. It was late Monday afternoon and she, Lita and the Hardyz had just arrived for Raw. "Hi Billy. I'm not so great, actually. I need fifteen signatures if I want to stick around."

Billy looked puzzled so she explained her whole situation. "So, anyway, I was Hardcore Holly's valet at Heat last night and I got him, Molly and Crash to sign, but that still leaves me with seven to get by Thursday."

"Count me in," Billy told her, picking up a pen. "I still need you to be my valet like we worked out. There you go, my autograph. Keep it later and sell it on ebay."

Angel smiled. "Thanks, Billy. Any matches tonight?"

Billy shook his head. "No, but I'm considering doing some run-ins at Hardcore Title matches and I think The One, Billy Gunn, Hardcore Champion has quite a ring to it. What do you think?"

"I definitely like the sound of it."

Billy smiled at her. "So my hardcore career looks like being pretty erotic and I don't know that a valet really fits into that picture."

Angel stared at him. Had he meant 'erratic'?

"Right," she said slowly. "Well, as soon as you book yourself in some planned matches, come find me, okay?"

"You got it," Billy replied. "I'll see you later. Good luck with your autograph hunting."

"Bye, Billy." She didn't know that he got the point, but it really didn't matter. Only six to go.

* * * *

"What makes you think you can get away with laying a hand on me?"

Angel didn't even look up. "I'll think you'll find it was two sticks, actually."

"Look at me when I'm talking to you," Benoit ordered. "I said, look at me!"

"Actually, I just ate. But scream a little louder, I'm sure Matt and Jeff just love the sound of your voice."

"Cocky little bitch."

Angel frowned and finally looked up. "Would it make me completely juvenile if I said I know you are, but what am I?"

Benoit stared at her intently. "I want you to be my valet tonight. I'm in the main event."

"Exactly what part of 'no' don't you understand?"

Benoit's glare deepened. "I could kill you with my bare hands, did you know that?"

"Then why don't you?" Angel demanded. "You tell Al Snow that he's all talk, but he's got nothing on you."

"You always have a bodyguard or two at your side," Benoit argued.

Angel shrugged. "I wouldn't have thought that would bother a man like you. But how about right now? We're alone. Just you and me. Hit me, I dare you." She stood up to give him a better chance. "Here, I'll even push the table out of the way."

Benoit clenched his fists and stared at her. His muscles twitched as his brain worked overtime, planning his first move. He couldn't do it. She had his measure and she knew it. That absolutely wrecked him but he couldn't walk away, any more than he could hit her. So he stared and breathed heavily as sweat formed all over his body. She looked back at him, an incredible calm all over her face, especially in those eyes. So calm, when for all she knew, an attack from the crippler was imminent. It devastated him. Something had to give.

"Get the hell away from her."

Benoit turned to look at Matt and Jeff as the spell broke and relief washed over him. 

"He was just asking me to be his valet," Angel explained. "I told him no and he was just leaving."

Now that he'd taken his eyes off her, Benoit found that he couldn't look back. 

"I'm in the main event," he said coolly, switching his gaze between the Hardyz. "I wanted a valet."

"She told you before she wouldn't do it," Jeff reminded him.

Benoit nodded. "I thought she'd want to experience a main event."

"Geez, Benoit," Matt sighed. "Why don't you and Dean Malenko pool your money and buy yourselves a clue?"

Benoit responded by leaping forward and pushing Angel's table into the Boyz. Before they could retaliate, he was partway down the hall, trying to recover his thoughts. The Hardyz thought they were doing Angel a favor by arriving in the nick of time. He'd never let them have the satisfaction of knowing that he, Chris Benoit, the greatest technical wrestler in the WWF, was the one they'd really saved.

* * * *

"Angel, I don't want you anywhere near him," Jeff was saying. "If you see him, come find us, no matter what."

"I can handle it," she replied softly, knowing they wouldn't believe her. She decided to change the subject before an argument started. "So, Lita has Malenko tonight?"

Matt nodded, his teeth clenched. "That she does."

"Does she want me to be her valet?"

"You'll have to ask her," Matt replied, feigning indifference. "But I don't even want her to be out there, let alone you."

"It'll work out, Matt," Angel assured him. "She'll be fine."

Matt shrugged. "I know I can't stop her. I just wish she'd listen to me from time to time."

"How about you guys?" Angel asked, shifting her gaze to Jeff. "Do you have a match yet?"

Jeff nodded. "Rikishi and Haku. You can come down for that one too, if you like, since Lita will be busy."

Matt gave him a strange look. "Well, gee, Jeff, that's a great idea. And while we're at it, let's hold her down so Rikishi can Banzai Drop her."

"Angel was valet when Al Snow faced them, and she's too quick to get caught," Jeff explained.

Matt shrugged. "Look, whatever, okay? Do what you want. I don't care." With that, he turned and entered the locker room.

"Sorry about that," Jeff sighed. "He's worried about Lita. He really thinks she's going to get hurt."

"It's Malenko," Angel shrugged. "I've kicked his ass twice already. Why shouldn't she have a go?"

"Yeah, I know. Anyway, the offer still stands. You're welcome to be our valet and by then Lita's match will be over so maybe Matt'll be a little easier to live with. Are you up for it?"

Angel grinned at him. "Definitely."

* * * *

"There you are, girlie, I've been looking all over for you."

Angel didn't recognize the voice so she looked up into the blue eyes of Stone Cold Steve Austin as he dumped his beer cooler on her table.

"You've been looking for me?"

"You're damn right I have. You were standing in Stone Cold Steve Austin's corner on Smackdown. Now, I don't know what the hell you were doing there and I do know it probably wasn't even about me. Now, don't get me wrong, girlie, Stone Cold Steve Austin doesn't need no help when he's kicking ass in the ring, but the bottom line is that sum'bitch Triple H put a damn chair in the ring. You moved the chair, I won the match. It's simple as that. Now, like I said, I know you weren't at ringside for the benefit of me, but you got me the match, then you got pedigreed for it. That's why, although you weren't officially my valet or the like, I figured I should give you something for your trouble." He opened the cooler and pulled out a 'Give Me A Hell Yeah' T-shirt. "Those sum'bitches at the merchandising stands charge twenty-five bucks for one of these things, but if it keeps beer money in Stone Cold Steve Austin's pockets, who is he to complain? Speaking of beer, here you go, girlie." He handed her a six pack. "Now, that's the real deal. It's not your Fosters or whatever the hell you people drink, but I drink this. These are from my personal stock so make sure you put them to good use, okay, girlie?"

Angel nodded, bewildered.

"Now, there's just one more thing. The both of us know that pedigree was meant for me, and the fact you're up and walking around is surprising, to say the least. Just taking that pedigree is worth the beer and the shirt, which leaves us with the chair thing. Now, Stone Cold's not one to hand out favors like they're pennies, but I think in this case you did me a favor so it's only fair that I repay it. This is my word, girlie. If you need anything, just ask me and I'll see it gets done."

Angel stared up at him. "There is one thing."

Austin looked amused. "That sure was quick. What is it, girlie?"

"I need fifteen superstars to sign a paper and say they want to keep me around by the end of Smackdown or Vince McMahon's going to kick me out. I still need six signatures and if you could be one of those six it would mean the world to me."

Austin frowned, then broke into a smile. "Vince McMahon wants you gone, you say? Well, hell, girlie, that's reason enough for me. Hand me your little paper and I'll sign it right here. You can keep that favor for later. If Vince is mad at you already, you're probably gonna need it."

Angel handed him her petition and he signed it with a flourish. "There you go, girlie. Oh, and say hello to Vince for me. He's a good friend of mine." Chuckling to himself, he picked up his cooler, left Angel's desk and walked down the hall.

* * * *

"Yeah, whatever, Matt. I can take care of myself just as good as you can," Lita yelled into the locker room, then slammed the door. She turned to Angel with a deep sigh and a shake of her head. "You ready, Ange?"

"Yeah, I'll just dump this stuff with Jeff." She gathered her gear and opened the locker room door to meet with a barrage of sound.

"Good! You came to your senses! It's about time!" Matt shouted.

"Um, it's me," Angel told him, shrugging her shoulders to free them from the tension in the room. "Jeff, could you look after this for me?"

Jeff nodded and took the bag from her. "Wish Lita luck."

"I will. See you guys after the match."

She rejoined Lita in the hallway.

"You know what really pisses me off?" Lita cried. "The way he keeps telling me I'm going to get hurt while I'm trying to get prepared. So I'm clearing my head and focusing my thoughts and all I can hear is 'Lita, you're going to get hurt'. So now it's all I can think. He should have just left it alone." She shook her head, close to tears. "I mean, how can I win when even I don't think I will?"

"You will, Li," Angel assured her. "And you won't get hurt."

* * * *

Angel was wrong. Lita did get hurt. A shove, a kick, a takedown, another shove. Each had Lita on the ground and she hadn't gotten in a single shot.

Malenko climbed to the floor to get a steel chair, but Angel ran over and grabbed it. They played tug of war for a few seconds until the ref called Malenko back into the ring. Malenko shoved Angel and the chair into the ground and climbed up to argue with the ref. This allowed Lita to catch him from behind with a rollup but he kicked out. A grab by the hair and a punch to he face, a threading onto the top rope and kicks to the midsection, a slam to the ground and a cover, but Malenko put her foot on the rope to lengthen the match.

"Come on, Lita!" Angel cried as her cousin caught Malenko with a low blow, then rolled him up into a cradle. Again he kicked out. 

Next was a massive suplex by Malenko, before he pulled Lita onto him for the cover, then kicked out again. He was mocking her, letting her know that he could finish her whenever he wanted.

Malenko picked Lita up and used her as a weapon to knock down the ref. Then he kneed her in the stomach and slammed her with a vertical suplex. Lita lay prone in the ring as Malenko strutted around her. He caught Angel's eye and smiled.

"Don't try me, little Angel. This could be you."

Angel scowled back at him. "Come on, Lita!" she cried, knowing it wouldn't do much good. 

Malenko climbed from the ring and went for the chair again. Again Angel tried to take it from him and again she got shoved to the ground. 

Malenko climbed back into the ring and slammed the chair into the canvas. "Goodbye, Lita!" he cried joyfully.

But just as he turned to attack Lita, Matt Hardy appeared from nowhere in the crowd, jumped the barrier and dove into the ring. Malenko raised the chair over his head but Matt kicked him in the stomach, forcing him to drop it. Then Matt picked up the chair, slammed Malenko across the head with it and jumped out of the ring next to Angel.

Lita crawled towards Malenko as the ref got back in the ring. Matt and Angel leaned on the apron and whispered Lita on.

Lita made the cover.

"One..." whispered Matt and Angel. "Two…three!" They jumped in the air and hugged, then Matt climbed in the ring to congratulate Lita. "You did it! You beat the son of a bitch!"

A groggy Lita grinned. "I beat him!"

Matt stepped back. "You sure did! You kicked his ass!"

Lita began a hysterical laugh and hugged Matt tight. Matt suddenly pulled her in even closer and kissed her.

Angel's mouth dropped open. "Oh my God, Matt, what have you done?"

Lita had a similar reaction. He eyes filled with surprise and her hand flew to her mouth. "No," she murmured. "No, no, no."

Matt licked his lips and swallowed, only then realizing what had happened. "I'm sorry, Lita," he said hurriedly. "I screwed up. I'm sorry."

Lita was frozen and Matt decided it was time to leave.

Angel shook her head sadly, then her eyes focused on a body in the ring.

"Malenko," she murmured happily. She jumped up next to him. "Hiya Malenko."

Malenko was still trying to clear his head. "Oh, come on. Your friend already hit me with a chair."

"Funny, I remember you hitting me with _two_ chairs," Angel replied. "Or was that the same chair twice?" She went to work.

Matt hit himself in the head. "Stupid!" he cried. "Idiot! Damn idiot!" He shook his head as he walked up the ramp. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Matt!"

Matt spun around to find Lita right behind him. He immediately entered apologetic mode.

"Lita, I'm so sorry. I didn't…"

Lita cut him off by grabbing at his face. "It's okay," she smiled. "We'll survive."

Angel heard the cheer and stopped hitting Malenko long enough to look up and see what was going on. She broke into a grin.

"Hey, Malenko!" she cried, lifting him with a stick. "You should definitely check this out."

"What?" Malenko murmured, before his eyes focused. "_What_? I knew it. I _knew_ she was cheating on me."

Angel laughed, almost crazily.

"Gotta go!" she announced, clocking him on the head with a stick. "Catch you later, stud."

She dove from the ring before he could retaliate and raced to catch Matt and Lita at the top of the ramp.

"Alright guys!" she cried, putting an arm around each of them. "It's about time you came out."

She stepped back to let the two of them exit in each other's arms, with the cheers of the crowd ringing in their ears.

* * * *

"You two are in big trouble," Jeff scolded, but he had a smile on his face. 

Matt grinned back at him. In fact, he hadn't stopped grinning. "What can I say?" he shrugged.

"It had to happen sooner or later," Lita added as Matt pulled her in for another kiss.

"Hey!' Jeff cried, causing them to break apart. "Did you guys also see Angel kick the crap out of Malenko again?"

"She did?" Matt chuckled. "Ha, way to go."

Lita grinned. "Hey, maybe I should learn the fighting sticks."

Matt pulled her even closer. "Then you could beat me up. I don't know if I like that idea."

Lita licked her lips. "You know you love it."

"And that would be my cue to leave," Jeff announced, ducking around them. He turned back to give them a shove through the door to the locker room. "The two of you need to get yourselves a room." He shut the door after them and started towards Angel. When he saw her he shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, I know," Angel replied with a smile. "I think it's better this way, though."

"Better for you, maybe. You can escape to your office if they get touchy-feely."

Angel slid over so she was only using half her chair. "Share my space, Jeff?"

Jeff climbed over the table. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * * *

"Okay, J."

"No."

"Y."

"Nope."

"Okay, I give up. What is it?"

"You can't give up," Jeff chided. "You have to wait until the little guy hangs himself."

"I know how to play," Angel replied. "G."

"No."

"C."

"No."

"B."

"No, and I think the game's over."

Angel sighed. "Okay, what was it?"

"The Wizard Of Oz," Jeff replied, filling in the letters. "Pretty tricky, huh?"  
Angel stared at him. "Edge is right, Jeff. You are a dork."

"No, according to Edge, Matt's a dork. I'm a psycho."

"Well, that's true, too," Angel grinned. She shifted her position, trying to make herself comfortable on the tiny amount of chair she had.

"Careful," Jeff warned, leaning back to steady them, but he'd over-corrected and the chair collapsed backwards into the janitor's closet. They grabbed for each other as they hit the ground with a crash.

"Are you okay?" Jeff asked, still holding her.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Angel replied, but as she tried to sit up, she hit her head on a shelf and fell down onto Jeff again.

"Let's try that again," Jeff said, helping her pick herself up. He stood, then offered her his hands. Smiling, Angel let him help her up, not noticing that he didn't release her when they were standing, instead wrapping his arms loosely around her waist.

"Thanks," she smiled. "I think maybe two people on one chair was a bad idea."

"I think it might have been," Jeff agreed.

Angel grinned up at him, not conscious of the fact that he hadn't let her go, not even conscious of the fact that her own hands were moving around his waist, ever closer to his backside. He sure did smell good. Did he always smell this good before a match? Probably not. It'd be a waste, considering what happened in the ring.

"You guys, I think this is possibly the greatest night of my life!"

The sound of the voice immediately snapped Angel out of it. She hurriedly dropped her hands and stepped out of Jeff's grasp. "Kat, is that you?"

"Angel!" Kat cried cheerfully, jumping up onto the table so that she could hug Angel. "And Jeff! What were you two doing in the closet?"

"Collecting dust," Angel deadpanned as Jeff replied, "Looking for a mop."

Behind the Kat, Faarooq turned to Bradshaw and said, "I think that boy was probably coming out of it."

Jeff stepped up to the table, almost knocking Kat off. "What was that?" he demanded.

"Easy there, cowboy," Bradshaw replied. "We don't want you getting all upset. Everyone should be happy tonight because we are going to a strip club!"

Kat clapped her hands together. "You guys should come. It'll be great. They're gonna let me get naked!"

"Well, hold on there, little missy," Faarooq admonished. "I don't know if I like the sound of that."

"Yeah," Bradshaw agreed. "You can come along if you like," he told Angel, eyeing her hungrily. "And you and the Kat can both get nekkid if you want to, but you," he continued, turning to Jeff. "I'd have to be pretty darn drunk before I'd be willing to see that."

"Yeah, man," Faarooq agreed. "I damn sure don't want to see it."

"You wanna come, Angel?" Kat pleaded.

Angel tried to hide her smile. "I appreciate the offer, but me and Jeff have a match so we can't leave anyway."

"Oh, man!" Bradshaw complained. "I was lookin' forward to that."

"It's okay," Faarooq told him. "We're still going and there'll be plenty of girls for us to look at."

"Including me!" Kat piped up, restoring Bradshaw's smile.

"Kat, while I've got you here," Angel started, reaching for her appointment book and pulling out the petition. "I need you to sign this to keep me around."

"Sure," Kat smiled, scrawling her name on the paper. "You guys, come sign this for Angel."

"Where you goin'?" Bradshaw asked.

"If I can't get fifteen signatures, Vince McMahon is having me kicked out."

"I don't like the sound of that," Faarooq told her. "If anyone's doing any kicking round here it's gonna be me and him."

"Yeah, ass-kickin'," Bradshaw added.

"Well, sign the paper, then," Kat prompted.

"Yeah, sure," Faarooq said, adding his name to the list. "You gonna sign, brother?"

"Okay, I'll sign," Bradshaw replied. "On one condition. She plays poker with us."

"Poker?" Angel questioned.

"Strip poker," Bradshaw smiled. "How about it, little missy?"

Angel nodded slowly. "Okay, I'm in."

"Then so am I!" Bradshaw announced, signing the paper.

"Okay, guys, let's get going," Kat suggested. "I don't want to miss a minute."

"You think we do?" Bradshaw asked, his eyes stopping on Angel's sign. "Valet for rent. You're a valet?"

Angel nodded.

"It's too bad we don't need a valet 'cause we've got this one, but I'll keep you in mind."

"Thanks," Angel said.

"You're welcome. Just remember we're playing poker. Wear your tiniest little outfit and get ready to get it on!"

"Come on, Bradshaw!" Kat cried. "Bye, Angel. Bye, Jeff."

As they walked away, Faarooq spoke. "Do you think she knows a valet's a guy's girlfriend, so if she's charging for it, that makes her a hooker?"

Bradshaw frowned. "You're sayin' that like it's bad." He broke into a grin. "Déjà vu, here we come!"

"Right on!" Kat cried.

* * * *

Jeff and Angel looked at each other and burst out laughing. 

"You introduced me to her," Angel said jokingly.

"Kat's great, she really is," Jeff replied. "I just wish she wasn't so obsessed with taking her clothes off."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure you hate that," Angel teased.

Jeff shrugged. "Okay, you caught me. How many signatures do you need now anyway?"

Angel looked at her list. "Two," she said with some surprise.

"Two?" Jeff asked. "Piece of cake. Chris Jericho and The Rock."

"You think they'll sign."

"Yeah," Jeff nodded. "They're sort of friends with me and Matt so they'll sign, and then you'll be able to stick around."

"Great!" Angel hugged him.

Jeff smiled. "We should get to our match," he announced. "I'll go get Matt." He stepped up to the locker room and opened the door but didn't look inside. "Hey, Matthew Moore!" he called out. "If you don't get your ass out here in the next few seconds Angel's gonna take your place as my tag partner."

"Thirty seconds!" came the reply.

Jeff turned to Angel. "I bet he hasn't even gotten changed yet."

Angel grinned. "Well, he's probably not up to the putting clothes on part, anyway."

Jeff laughed. 

Pretty soon, Matt joined them, pulling on his arm guards. "Let's kick some ass."

Jeff stared at him strangely. "You know, that lipstick looks good on Lita, but it's really not your color."

Matt sheepishly wiped his mouth. "Okay. Now let's kick some ass."

* * * *

The Titantron was showing a replay of Matt and Lita's kiss as Angel and the Hardyz reached the ring. Jeff smiled, Angel applauded and Matt shrugged with a smug look on his face.

"Oh yeah!" he cried. "It's all about me!"  
Jeff turned to him with a sarcastic smile. "Yeah, Matt, we all know you're hot stuff. Let's just beat these big bastards."  
"Jealous," Matt replied.

"And how," Jeff murmured, leaning forward and putting his hands on his knees as he waited for their opponents' entrance.

When they did appear, Matt and Jeff welcomed them by flying through the air and knocking them down.

"Oh yeah!" Angel cried, mimicking Matt. "It's all about Matt and Jeff Hardy! You're damn right it is!"

Matt and Jeff didn't have it all their own way. Rikishi and Haku were twice their size and made sure they knew about it. But Matt and Jeff battled valiantly with moves so daring they even shocked Angel.

"Oh my God, Jeff, that was awesome!" she screamed after a corkscrew moonsault.

After a Twist of Fate and a Swanton Bomb, it looked to be over, with the Hardyz pulling off the upset. But while Matt argued with the ref about being in the ring while Jeff was legal man, Haku stepped in and headbutted Jeff, allowing Rikishi to drape an arm across him.

"One, two, three," counted the ref. "Ring that bell!"

Matt climbed back in and started punching Haku in the face as Jeff got up in time to help his brother double team Rikishi. Matt and Jeff turned around to be caught by Haku, one in each hand. Haku cast some kind of spell on them and their strength leeched out, causing them to collapse to the canvas. Still Haku held them and their bodies went limp.

"What the hell is that?" Angel cried urgently. "What's he doing to them?"

But there was no one to answer her and all she could do was watch helplessly as her friends lost consciousness in the apparent chokeholds. Haku rolled Jeff's body on top of Matt's, and then he and Rikishi left the ring. As soon as they were gone, Angel was up there.

"Guys, wake up," she begged, pulling Jeff off Matt. His eyes were closed and he was barely breathing. 

"Jeff?" Angel asked, lightly tapping his face. "Jeff, can you hear me?" He didn't answer her. "Come on, Jeff, wake up," Angel cried, shaking him. Still no response. "Please, Jeff, please wake up." Tears formed in her eyes as she stared at his peaceful face. There was no pain, no nothing. "Please, Jeff." 

She remembered the tag table match, how scared she'd been when she'd heard the crash, how worried she'd been waiting in the trainer's room with Matt while the doctors worked out just how badly injured Jeff really was. Now she realized just how much she really did care about him. "Come on, Jeff," she whispered. "Get up. Don't just lie there. I need you."

Suddenly, Jeff's mouth dropped open and he inhaled a huge gasp of air. His eyes opened but he couldn't focus. At least her was breathing relatively normally now. He tried to move his head but he couldn't so he just lay there, staring up at the roof of the arena. "What…what happened?" he stuttered, his voice weak.

"I don't know," Angel replied, grabbing his hand. "The guy with the weird haircut just grabbed you by the neck and you went down."

"A chokehold," Jeff murmured. "Was it a chokehold?"

"I don't know," Angel replied. "I don't know. Can you move, Jeff?"

The strain showed on Jeff's face. Eventually, he gave up. "I don't think so."

"Squeeze my hand," Angel suggested. "Squeeze it as hard as you can."

Jeff tried his best but hardly made any impression. "H-how's that?"

"Good," Angel lied. "Real good."

Suddenly, Angel was pushed out of the way by a team of paramedics. They quickly loaded Jeff onto a stretcher and carried him from the ring. 

"Angel," Jeff murmured. "Where's Angel?"

"I'm here, Jeff," she called out, running to keep up. "I'm right behind you."

* * * *

"I've never seen anything like it," the doctor was saying. "I mean, medically, there's absolutely nothing wrong with either of them. They should be able to get up out of here and move around."

"Why don't you know?" Angel demanded. "Aren't you paid to know? Maybe I should strike you down and see how you like it."

Lita stepped up and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Ange, it's okay," she soothed. "Let him talk." She looked up at the doctor. "Well, they're obviously not moving, are they?"

'They've regained some mobility since the incident itself," the doctor explained. "As far as I can see, their strength returns over time. Now, I'm not saying they should try walking just yet, but given bed rest they should theoretically be fine by tomorrow."

Lita frowned. "Are you saying we should just take them to the hotel?"

"Unless you want them to go to hospital for further testing, yes. Their breathing is fine, they're not in any great pain and their mobility seems to be returning. If by tomorrow they still can't walk, I'd advise you to seek further treatment, but there's really not much I can do for you here."

Lita nodded. "Take them home?" she asked Angel.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Okay, you get Jeff, I'll get Matt. We'll see if we can find someone to grab our stuff for us."

* * * *

Angel, Lita, Matt and Jeff finally made it to the back door. Their progress had been labored and slow as Matt and Jeff took tentative steps, supported by Angel and Lita. 

A crowd of fans had gathered behind some barriers, despite the fact that the show went on inside. Their shouts were surreal as their weakened heroes stumbled along the tarmac to the rental car.

"Lita! Lita! Lita!"  
"I love you, Jeff!"

"Way to go, Matt, you lucky son of a bitch."

They were a parade. Matt and Jeff couldn't even find the energy to walk under their own power, but the fans didn't care. It was almost as if they didn't even notice.

"Angel!"

Angel raised her head. She could have sworn she'd heard someone calling her name.

"Angel!" She must have been hearing things because it sounded just like…

"Angel!" There he was. Front and center.

"Tim!" she cried in disbelief, loosening her grip on Jeff and causing his body to collapse onto the concrete ground. Angel raced over to the crowd and jumped the barrier before leaping into his arms. They kissed deeply as she slid sown his body and her feet touched the ground. "I can't believe it, Tim, I can't believe it."

"I got a week off work," Tim explained. "I had to see you."

"This is amazing!" Angel cried, kissing him again.

"Hey, you bitch!" cried a girl, pre to early teens who wore way too much makeup and a three sizes too big Hardy Boyz T-shirt. "I can't believe you just dropped Jeff on the ground and left him there."

"Yeah!" added an almost identical girl. "I mean, some friend you are."

Angel's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my God, Jeff!" She leaped back over the barrier and stood by Jeff, who was trying unsuccessfully to get up. "Tim! Can you help me here? We need to get him to the car."

The crowd parted and Tim ran to his girlfriend's aid.

"I'm real sorry, Jeff," Angel murmured. "Here, Tim, you take one side and I've got the other. You ready? One…two…three."

With both Angel and Tim supporting him, Jeff didn't have to walk at all and progress was much faster. It wasn't long before they caught up with Lita and Matt, who were still struggling along.

"Angel," Jeff murmured groggily. "Are we moving? Did we stop?"

"Yeah, we did, but we're going again and we're nearly there."

"Good." Jeff broke into a dopey smile. "Thank you, Angel. I really…I need you, Angel. I really need you. You know that?"

"I know, Jeff. It's okay, I'm here. We've got you."

Jeff closed his eyes, a serene smile on his face, and let himself be carried along. Finally, she knew…she knew.

************************************************************************

AN: Uhoh, so what's this mean for Jeff's shot with Angel? Mind you, it's a lot easier competing with something when you know what you're up against, right?


	17. Ultimatum

Title: Ultimatum

Spoilers: 2/22/01

Disclaimer: All wrestling characters are owned by the WWF/WWE. Angel and Tim are owned by me, but I'll sell Tim to the highest bidder. He's only there to make things tricky ;-P

Summary: Angel needs two more signatures by the end of the night or she has to leave. Jeff just wants Tim to leave. Which of them will get their way?

SMACKDOWN, FEBRUARY 22ND, 2001

Jeff was in one of his moods. He sat on his bed, doing bicep curls with a set of dumbbells and thought about how depressing everything was. Monday had been so promising, too. After their pre-Raw argument, Matt and Lita had well and truly reconciled. Jeff himself had definitely had what he'd call a moment with Angel in the closet. He and Matt had even been well on the way to beating Haku and Rikishi. And yet, the night, and each moment since then, had crumbled into a cesspool of misery, depression and loneliness. That's why he was sitting alone, in a single room, no less, trying to work out how it had all gone wrong.

He was pretty sure he could pinpoint the exact moment things had changed. When Matt had fought with the ref about being allowed in the ring for the double team. Jeff didn't blame Matt – that sort of thing happened a lot, but that was when it had changed.

Jeff actually didn't remember much of what had happened after that moment, courtesy of Haku's chokehold (or Tongan Death Grip as it had come to be known). So it had come as quite a surprise for him to wake up on Tuesday morning and find out that Angel's boyfriend not only existed, but was with her in America. He'd hardly seen her since Raw and, when he had, Tim was always by her side like some faithful Saint Bernard, who didn't say much but had a constant and irritating presence. He missed Matt and Lita, who had now decided to take a room together but rarely ventured out, but more than this, he missed Angel. It wasn't just that she was the girl he wanted. She was also his friend – the girl he hung out with, the girl he had fun with, sometimes even the girl he trained with. And in all those facets, Tim had taken her away. 

Jeff didn't even know how long Tim would be staying. Would it be like Angel – he'd just get a glimpse of what the WWF was like, fall in love with it and decide to stay indefinitely? Jeff wouldn't change Angel's presence in his life for anything, but Tim's? Well, that was another story.

* * * *

Angel and Tim walked the halls, hand in hand. They'd just returned relatively unscathed from a strip poker game with the Acolytes and Kat that could only be described as interesting. They hadn't even wanted Tim to play at first, but then Bradshaw suggested that whenever Tim lost, Angel would have to remove her clothes. The object of strip poker was that every time you lost a round you removed an article of clothing, until you were completely nekkid, as Bradshaw would say. However, the Kat didn't seem to care whether she lost or not and when Bradshaw started to follow her lead, Faarooq decided to call the game off, or risk losing his appetite for lunch.

"So, what next?" Tim asked.

"Training," Angel replied.

"Again? You trained yesterday."

"And the day before, and tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. I'm serious about this, Tim."

"I know," Tim sighed. "It just seems an awful lot of effort for very little reward."

"Reward is relative," Angel shrugged, knocking on a door.

Jeff opened it, shirtless, as usual. "Angel," he smiled. "And Tim."

Angel hugged him. "Gee, Jeff. I feel like I haven't seen you in days."

"That's 'cause you haven't," Jeff replied evenly.

Angel frowned. "Have you been alone again, Jeff? I really think they should put something in your contract that says that shouldn't be allowed to happen."

Jeff shrugged. "So, what brings you here, anyway? The two of you aren't sightseeing or whatever?"

"Sightseeing," Tim repeated. "That's a joke. My girl's always training."

Jeff smiled, sensing a little tension. "Yeah, she's committed, alright."

"She needs to be committed, more like it," Tim joked.

Angel gave him a little shove. "Actually, that's the reason I'm here, Jeff. I missed my training session this morning because of an intense game of strip poker, so I was wondering if you'd like to train with me. I booked the ring if you want to, otherwise I'll have to go find Molly."

"That's okay," Jeff smiled. "I have a match tonight so I really have to get off my butt anyway."

"Great," Angel grinned. "Okay, Tim. You stay here with Jeff while I go get changed."

Before either of them could protest, she was gone.

"You can come in if you want," Jeff said to Tim. "I just have to get ready myself."

Tim nodded slowly and followed him inside. Still naked from the waist up, Jeff sat on the bed, rolled up his pants and pulled on his knee guards, all the time keeping his eye on Tim. The guy was a walking stereotype of what Australians were supposed to be. Too tall, too blonde, too tanned, too burly. He'd actually fit in pretty well in the backstage area of the WWF. Faded T-shirt, faded jeans, faded sneakers – Jeff was actually surprised he wasn't wearing flip-flops.

"How do you feel about Angel becoming a wrestler?" Jeff asked as he picked up a boot.

Tim shrugged. "She's always pulling crazy shit like this. Besides, it doesn't matter, does it? Wrestling's all fake anyway, isn't it?"

Jeff looked up with an interested smile. "Is it?"

"Well, yeah, mate. You blokes don't really hit each other half the time. It's just a big show."

Jeff formed his sick little smile. "Yeah, you should meet _him_ if you think it's fake. A chokeslam by him and you'll know all about it, believe me."

"Huh?" Tim asked.

"Doesn't matter. So, you're okay with Angel getting hurt now and then?"

Tim frowned. "You don't get hurt, do you? It's all fake."

Jeff grinned sadistically. "Have you watched her train?"

"Yeah, with the stick guy and the bloke with the doll head."

"And what did you think?"

"Well, it's like a dance routine, isn't it? If you know all the steps you don't fall on your arse."

Jeff shook his head. "I'm glad you weren't here last week when she got pedigreed and busted her head open."

"What?" Tim cried, suddenly concerned.

Jeff nodded slowly as he picked up his arm guards. "She got knocked out. I had to carry her out of there because no one else was going to help her."

Tim stared at him. He now had two questions he wanted answered. "You mean, you people go out there just to hurt each other?"

Jeff laughed and pulled on his second arm guard. "Now you're starting to get it."

"That's kind of…sick."

"Come now, Tim. I'm sure you've gotten in fights before. Did you stop punching the guy because you suddenly had an epiphany that what you were doing was sick?"

"No, but it's different when girls are involved."

Jeff shrugged. "Male, female, no one cares around here. You're either a friend or an enemy and if you're an enemy, you get hurt. That's the way it is."

"So, you're a friend for my Angel?"

Jeff nodded seriously. "She's my best friend. We look after each other. I try to keep her from being hurt, but if she does get hurt, I'm there to help her. She does the same for me."

"How many times has she been hurt?"

"Hmm," Jeff murmured thoughtfully. "Let's see. Ring bell to the head, punch in the face, kick to the head, she got thrown by the neck and then the Pedigree onto the chair. And that's if you don't count incidental bumps and bruises from training."

"No shit," Tim mused. "And you say you keep her safe?"

Jeff shrugged. "I do what I can. You get hurt. It happens." He rifled through his clothes and chose a shirt, then pulled it over his head. "The trick is to not ask for trouble and know when to fight back."

"No shit," Tim repeated. "You know, mate, that shirt's not exactly blokey. No offence."

Jeff's sick smile returned. "The fans like the way I dress and so d I. But if you want to subscribe to the Stone Cold school of fashion I'm not going to stop you."

"Stone Cold? As in Austin 3:16? He hangs out around here?"

Jeff rolled his eyes. "It's always about Austin."

"You ready, guys?" Angel asked, appearing at the door.

"You bet," Jeff replied, looking her up and down. She was wearing her boots, commando pants and, coincidentally, a Stone Cold shirt.

"Where'd you get the shirt?" Jeff asked.

"Stone Cold gave it to me. You like it?"

"I'd like it better if it was a Hardy Boyz one," Jeff replied. "I'll have to fix you up with one of those. Anyway, how do you know Stone Cold?"

"He was thanking me for what I did on Smackdown last week. He gave me some beer, too."

"No kidding," Jeff murmured. "He's never given me beer."

* * * *

"Flying head scissors!" Jeff suggested.

"Dammit!" Angel replied, falling to the ground after Jeff's powerslam. 

"Straight up!" Jeff ordered and she bounced to her feet, then wrapped Jeff in a cradle. Jeff broke it, then ran to the ropes and caught Angel with a takedown. 

"Straight up or I'll make you pay," he called but Angel stayed down as Jeff bounced off the ropes. She moved enough to dive through his legs and grab one in an illegal but effective toehold, which had Jeff eating canvas.

He pulled himself up so that he was sitting. "Cheat."

Angel breathed heavily and ran a hand through her hair. "Nope. Tim was distracting the ref so he didn't see it."

Jeff laughed. "You _are_ learning the tricks."

Angel grinned. "I learn from the best."

Jeff jumped to his feet and helped her up. "Let's keep going."

They approached each other, but before locking up, Angel dove through Jeff's legs and prepped for the rollup. But Jeff was ready for it and leaped into a forward somersault, avoiding her hands. When he turned, Angel grabbed him by the neck. 

"Ahh!" she cried, flipping around.

"Twist of Fate," Jeff murmured. "Impressive."

But Angel wasn't done yet, pinballing herself between the ropes as she waited for him to get up. When he did, she sprang off the rope behind him and used the momentum to slide up his back before catching his head and bringing him down in a Hurricanrana. She jumped off him straight away and squealed excitedly. 

"I can't believe it worked! Tim! I call that one 'Mark of the Year'. It's pretty footy, huh?"

Tim nodded. "It's awesome."

Suddenly, Jeff spun Angel around and sent her into a belly to belly suplex.

"It was very cool," he told her, pulling her legs up off the canvas. "But your opponent doesn't care." He brought his legs down between hers.

"That would have worked great if I was a guy," Angel murmured, before jumping to her feet and shoving Jeff down. "But I'm not."

She sprang back into the ropes as Jeff got up and did the same. They clashed in the middle and grabbed for each other, causing a double takedown. Angel was first up. She looked back at Jeff, nodded to herself, and climbed the ropes to the top turnbuckle. She turned to face Jeff, psyching herself up.

Jeff moved a little and noticed where she was. "Angel, what are you doing?" he asked. "It's the other way for a moonsault."

"No," Angel replied, her voice barely a whisper. She had a crazy look in her eyes. "Swanton Bomb." She raised her arms in the air and slowly fell forward.

"No, Angel!" Jeff cried, leaping to his feet. "You're not turning enough, you'll…"

He was standing and Angel crashed right into him, despite his efforts to simply catch her. They fell to the canvas, knocking the wind out of both of them.

"You're crazy!" Jeff cried, his hands still on her shoulders as she lay on top of him. "You're absolutely nuts!"

Angel laughed breathlessly, raking her fingers down his cheeks. "That was great! Let's do it again." She leaped to her feet and helped Jeff up.

He shook his head, grinning. "I think I'll go find Matt. Not that you're not great, but if Rikishi attempts a Swanton on me tonight I'll probably die of shock."

"And a crushed ribcage," Angel added. "Thanks for training with me, Jeff." She hugged him tightly.

"No problem, Gel," Jeff breathed. "I'll see you tonight."

"Yep." Angel stepped over to the ropes. "Look, I'm Kane."

"Angel, no!" Jeff cried as she tried to flip herself over the top rope using only one hand. Luckily, Tim was there to catch her.

"Come on, psycho. Let's get out of here."

Jeff watched them with a smile on his face. That Angel sure was his kind of girl.

* * * *

"This is where you work?" Tim asked skeptically.

"Yep. It's not much, but it's home."

If one chair was a tight fit, two chairs were practically impossible, but somehow both Angel and Tim managed to fit in the small space.

"So, these wrestlers can hire you and you accompany them to the ring?"

"Yep. Here, I'll show you where Matt wrote who I'm allowed to valet for and who I'm not. Look here, read Edge's."

Tim frowned. "That's pretty harsh."

"I know. I don't always listen, I make my own choices, but generally Matt's right on the money."

"So, what's he have to say about me, eh?" called a voice that Angel now knew well.

"Benoit, I'm going to save us both some time and tell you straight out I'm not going to be your valet."

Benoit just stared at her. "You know, little girl, you're the reason I was destroyed in my match at Raw. You're the reason I was spitting blood all the next day. Yes, it might surprise you but there _is_ blood flowing through these veins and you're the reason I lost some of it. You're also the reason I've returned to midcarder status and the intercontinental title hunt."

"Well, that was a lot for me to do in one day, wasn't it?"

Benoit ignored her comment. "Yes, you weakened me, but if you think you hurt me, you're wrong. That happened in the match itself because I was weakened."

"Do you want me to hurt you?" Angel offered.

"Don't flatter yourself," Benoit sneered.

"Benoit, we really don't need to be having this conversation."

Benoit nodded slowly. "Fine, I'll change the subject. You have to stop attacking Malenko. He's beginning to get pissed off and I can no longer offer protection."

Angel was taken aback. "You think you're protecting me?"  
Benoit shook his head. "I _know_ I am."

"Oh, please. As you said a minute ago, don't flatter yourself."

Benoit scowled at her. "If you underestimate Malenko, you're making a big mistake. He might seem easy, but believe me when I tell you he's not. If he was, he wouldn't be a Radical." He broke into a smug grin.

"Well, thanks for the advice, but I can take care of myself."

"You think so?" Benoit scoffed. "You really think so? Little girl, Malenko has a submission move that could snap your spine if you're in it for long enough. And when he gets you, there will be no tapping out, there will be no ref to break the hold, there will be no Hardyz, no Lita, no Al Snow, no 'Lethal Weapon'. It'll just be your broken body, lying on the ground. Can you live with that? Well, can you?"

Angel glared at him. "Get out of here, Benoit. I've had enough of you."

Benoit smirked. "I'm giving you a warning. If you're smart, you'll listen."

"She said get out of here," Tim announced, getting to his feet.

Benoit stared, as if it was the first time he'd noticed that Angel wasn't alone. "And who the hell are you?"

Tim stepped out from behind the table. "I'm her boyfriend." He was several inches taller than Benoit and probably thought he had a chance.

"No, Tim," Angel warned.

"Is that so?" Benoit smirked. "Well, Little Girl's boyfriend. Do you have any idea who I am?"

"An arsehole who's giving my girlfriend a hard time?"

Benoit grinned evilly. "Wrong." He chopped Tim across the chest, sending him reeling. Tim ran at him but was stopped by another chop, then a third. Tim didn't know when to quit and ran at him again. Benoit grabbed him and held him over his head in a vertical suplex, then slammed him down onto the cold, hard floor. Next, he rolled Tim onto his stomach, hooked his arm and applied the crossface. Tim started screaming and so did Angel.

"Help! Matt! Jeff! Help! Get off him, Benoit, get off him!"

Angel heard footsteps and the cavalry arrived. Boom, a boot to Benoit's side broke the hold and the Hardyz, along with Chris Jericho, pulled Benoit away from Tim.

Jericho trapped Benoit's arms behind his back and pushed him roughly down the hall. "Ordinarily I'd jump at the chance to give you a beating you'll never forget but I don't want any excuses when I destroy you in the ring tonight. Off you go, jackass."

Benoit sneered and thought about attacking Jericho, but Angel still had both Hardyz flanking her so he decided against it. Two he could take, but three was pushing it.

Angel got up from the side of her fallen boyfriend and stepped up to Benoit. Looking him straight in the eyes, she slapped him across the face, then turned to leave. Benoit caught her by the left arm so she spun and slapped him again, then kicked him in the stomach so he'd release her arm. 

"Asshole," she spat, then walked back over to Tim.

"See you in the ring, junior," Jericho called mockingly as Benoit took a deep breath and headed towards his locker room.

"We better get this guy to the trainer's room," Matt was saying as he helped Tim to his feet. 

"No, mate, it's okay, I'm okay," Tim protested. "Aah…" he gasped, grabbing for his back.

"Come on, buddy, the EMTs won't bite you," Matt told him, before looking over at Angel. "I'll take him. You stay here and try to get some clients. Jeff, make sure Benoit doesn't come back."

"Thanks, Matt," Angel called as he walked off with Tim. She shrugged sheepishly and turned to Jeff and Jericho. "Thanks, guys. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't showed up."

"I'll take a guess and say you should have just bitch-slapped him a couple times," Jericho said. "Sister, that was possibly the most bizarre thing I've ever seen. I wouldn't have let you get away with it."

"I'm not afraid of him," Angel shrugged. 

"Then you're crazy." A look of comprehension crossed his face and he turned to Jeff. "This is the girl you were telling me about, isn't it, junior?"

Jeff nodded. "Chris Jericho, Angel Torres."

Jericho shook Angel's hand. "Angel," he repeated. "Unfortunate name but I'll forgive you that. Jeff tells me you wanted to see me about something."

Angel stared at him, confused.

"The list," Jeff prompted.

"Oh yeah," Angel smiled. "I need fifteen people to sign a petition or Vince McMahon won't let me hang around. Jeff said you'd sign it."

"Well, Jeff's wrong," Jericho frowned. "What's wrong with you, Hardy? Y2J doesn't do favors and he does not sign petitions."

Angel was startled. "If you don't know how to write, you can always put an X."

Jericho glared at her. "I am Y2J. I am the reigning Intercontinental Champion and you're wasting my time. I have a title to protect and you, junior, want me to sign some trivial form so you can keep hanging out with your groupies?"

"It's not like that, Chris," Jeff argued. "She needs to stick around so she can kick some RTC ass."

"Right. I'm sure that's why you want to keep her here. It's nothing personal, sister. I just don't do favors. They're a great way to get yourself screwed. I'm surprised you don't know that already, junior. I mean, how can I be sure that she's not going to be like Chyna – all man muscles and mayhem? Now, I could kick Chyna's ass just as easily as she could kick mine, but if she hadn't been around at all, guess who would have been solo Interchrisinental title champion a little over a year ago? That's right. Y2J. And if I didn't have to worry about Chyna, do you really think I'd have lost it to Kirk Angel at No Way Out? Of course I wouldn't have. Y2J has to look after Y2J, just like you two have to look after yourselves. So, I can't help you, but I do wish you luck. I'll see you round, Jeff, and you, maybe." He strolled down the hall.

Jeff turned to Angel. "Sorry. I really thought he'd do it."

Angel shrugged. "It's okay. I only need two. Did you catch up with the Rock?"

Jeff shook his head. "I looked all over but he's a busy guy. And he's been kind of psycho lately, since he won a Federation title shot against Kurt Angle at No Way Out."

Angel sighed. "Maybe I should have gotten Chris Benoit to sign it."

"And then he would have torn it up and force-fed you the pieces," Jeff replied. "I'm telling you, as soon as he gets tired of making your life hell, as he will eventually, I'll be a much happier man."

* * * *

"All better," Tim announced with a brave smile, but it didn't escape Angel's attention that he was walking very gingerly. "Deep Heat. Wonder drug of wonder drugs."

Angel stared at him strangely. "Matt told them you weren't a wrestler so they injected you with a painkiller, didn't they?" she guessed.

"Yes," Tim admitted. "But I needed it. That bloody bastard went and killed my damn back. What's his bloody problem?"

Angel shrugged. "I'm pretty sure it's me. And I keep kicking the crap out of his best mate, so he doesn't like that, either."

"What is he? Some kind of robot?"

"That's what they say," Angel replied mysteriously.

"Whoa, there's like two of you. This so reeks of awesomeness."

Angel looked up and smiled. "Hi Edge."

"Hey there, dudette. Can you say, like 'good-day'? What is it? 'Good day, mate'."

"G'day mate," Tim guessed.

"Yeah, that's it. Awesome!" Edge cried, jumping around. "Say something else."

"Edge, we'd be glad to have a whole conversation with you if you do something for me."

Edge took a step back, hands in the air. "Wait a minute, Angel face. I know I'm photogenic and brutally sexy, but I don't play that way. I'm not that kind of five time tag team champ."

Angel smiled sarcastically. "No, nothing like that. I just want you to sign a petition to keep me around or I'm going to be kicked out."

Edge thought about it, stroking his chin. "And that Ausserific accent would stay too?"

"I can't promise that but I'll say most likely."

Edge broke into his devastating grin. "Okay, dudette. Consider it done-aged."

Angel handed him the paper and he signed it.

"Thanks, Edge."

"No problem. Who's this guy, anyway?"

"This is my boyfriend, Tim."

"It is?" Edge grinned. "So, you mean that psychtacular dorkchop…?"

"No, he's not," Angel cut him off.

"Really? Well, in that case, it's totally awesome to meet you." Edge shook Tim's hand enthusiastically. "He's better looking than señor psychopath anyway. Kind of like me or Christian – without the totally superior hair, of course."

"Thanks," Tim muttered uncomfortably.

"No problem," Edge grinned. "So, tell me, Timbo. How do you say 'she's total hottie' in Australian?"

Tim frowned. "Um, she's a bonzer sheila?"

"Ha!" Edge applauded. "You guys, you totally reek of awesomeness, but I have to go. I'll talk with you later." He wandered down the hallway muttering 'she's a bonzer sheila, g'day mate' and trying to imitate the accent. 

"That's Edge?" Tim asked.

"Yep, that's Edge."

"The guy Matt said was a brutal back-stabbing jerk?"

"That's the one."

"This place sure is weird," Tim murmured.

"Babe, you're not telling me anything."

* * * *

"Angel, up you get, it's time for my match."

Angel frowned at Jeff. "Isn't Lita…?"

"Yeah, I am," Lita replied, stepping out from behind Jeff. "But…"

"But I promised you Jericho would sign and he didn't," Jeff continued. "It might be your last night tonight, and I want to make sure you see some action."

Angel broke into a smile. "Thanks, Jeff."

Jeff smiled back. "Come on, let's go."

"Tim, go hang with Matt in the locker room," Angel suggested. "I'll be back soon."

* * * *

Angel and Lita's styles as valet were similar but different. While Lita shouted encouragement to Jeff and tried to heckle Rikishi, Angel's only concern was for her friend.

Jeff had his typical slew of astonishing moves, but he was hopelessly outsized by the 423 pound monster.

Rikishi ended the match by Banzai dropping Jeff from the second rope. Angel heard the impact and cringed, before running over to the corner where Jeff was lying under Rikishi as the ref made the three count. Rikishi turned to her and she stepped away from the ropes so he couldn't reach her. He then got up and started to walk to the corner as Lita attempted to get in the ring without him seeing her. 

Rikishi was partway through the ropes when he paused, turned back and saw Lita. He started back towards her and she rolled quickly from the ring. Rikishi then looked over at Angel and smiled. He stepped over Jeff's body and put his hands on the ropes, as if going for another Banzai Drop.

"No!" Angel screamed as, in the opposite corner, Lita climbed to the top. Rikishi felt the ropes move under his hands, stepped away from Jeff and viciously pulled the top rope, causing Lita to tumble to the canvas. Angel hadn't seen it; she was too busy trying to get near Jeff without Rikishi attacking. He finally moved away and Angel climbed up next to Jeff. In the opposite corner, Rikishi backed up his big posterior and stinkfaced Lita. While he was till giving her the treatment, Matt raced down the ramp to his girlfriend's aid. He punched Rikishi until the big guy vacated the ring, then held Lita as she choked and spluttered and tried to recover her sense of smell. All of this went unnoticed by Angel, who was stroking Jeff's face and talking to him softly.

"Oh, Jeff, not again. Why does this always happen?"

Pretty soon she was joined by Matt and Lita.

"Jeff, are you okay?" Matt asked.

"Honey, what did he do to you?" Lita added.

Angel barely noticed them. Jeff was hurt again.

* * * *

Another show, another trip to the trainer's room for Jeff. He was diagnosed with suspected broken ribs and told to go to hospital for X-rays, but he refused.

"No, this might be my best friend's last night here. I'm not leaving her."

"But you might compound your injuries," the doctor warned.

"Tape them," Jeff ordered.

"But…"

"Tape my damn ribs!"

"It won't do much good. We don't know which ones are injured."

"Then take an educated guess."

"Jeff," Angel started. "Maybe you should…"

"Forget it, Angel. I'm staying to support you whether you like it or not."

* * * *

"Angel, come help me hand out buttons."

Angel jumped to her feet. "Sure, Al. Tim…"

"I know, go wait with the Hardy brothers."

Angel kissed him quickly. "Back soon, babe." 

She raced after Al, who handed her a sack of buttons. "Did you get all your names?"

Angel shook her head. "One to go."

"Night's not over yet," Al told her. They reached the backstage area and strolled straight out, where Al started throwing buttons into the crowd.

"Isn't there a match right now?" Angel asked, squinting at the ring.

"Yeah, it's just a Euro title match. Test and Regal. Vince wouldn't give me campaigning time so I thought I'd interrupt the match of his favorite boy."

Angel helped him hand out buttons. "Vote for Al! Al Snow for commissioner! A vote for Al is a vote for Head!"

In the ring, Regal was not impressed by Al's appearance and, after tying Test up in the ropes and getting admonished by the ref, he strolled over to give Snow a piece of his mind.

"Mr. Snow, what are you doing here? You are besmirching my moment of glory. This is a title match!"

He grabbed Snow by the hair, but Snow swung his bag of buttons around and hit Regal across the face. He then reached into the bag and pulled out Head, before tossing it over to Angel, who held it in the air.

In the ring, Test gave Regal a big boot and covered him to retain his title. 

Al stepped over to Angel and they raised Head together. 

"Okay," Al smiled. "We've finished what we came for."

"You wanted the screwjob?" Angel asked, confused. 

"What goes around comes around," Al shrugged. "That British prick took the Euro title from me. And besides, maybe now Test will sign your paper."

They both looked around but Test was already gone.

"Oh well," Angel sighed. "It was worth a thought."

* * * *

Angel spent the rest of the night surrounded by Tim, Lita, Jeff and Matt. A somber group, they accompanied her to Mr. McMahon's office and sat outside to wait.

Angel knocked slowly.

"Come in, Angel. I've been expecting you."

Angel stepped inside and took a seat. She was so close and yet so far away and she didn't expect him to show her any mercy.

"So, how did it go?" Vince asked, staring at her expectantly.

Angel silently handed him the paper and he read the names aloud. "Lita, Jeff Hardy, Matt Hardy, Al Snow (his voice changed noticeably as he showed his disgust), Steve Blackman, Molly Holly, Crash Holly, Hardcore Holly, Billy Gunn, Stone Cold Steve Austin (another voice change), the Kat, Faarooq, Bradshaw and Edge." He folded the paper and handed it back to Angel. "I see only one problem with this. Only fourteen names. You're short by one."

"I know," Angel replied quietly.

Vince cocked his head, feigning sympathy. "Well, I'm sorry, I really am, but we had a deal. I hope you enjoyed your time with us."

"Wait!" Angel cried, before she lost her nerve. "I need more time."

"More time?"

"Yes. I want so bad to stay. The fact that I got fourteen superstars to agree on something should prove that to you."

Vince nodded. "Well, that is true, but fair is fair and we had a deal."

"I know, that's why I don't expect you to let me through with fourteen names. I just need more time to get the last one."

"How much time would you require?"

"A week."

"A week? That's a somewhat ambitious request, don't you think?"

Angel shook her head. "We're coming up to No Way Out. It's hard to even find time to talk to people, let alone convince them of the fact that I'm an asset to the company."

"I'll tell you what," Vince said after a long pause. "I can't give you a week, but you're obviously here to negotiate and that's what I do."

"How long can I have?"

"A show. Sunday night, after Heat but before No Way Out, report to me with that last name. If you can't get it, you're gone. That's my offer. Take it or leave it."

"I'll take it."

"Great. I'll see you on Sunday." Angel got up to leave, but Vince continued speaking. "Angel, I'm a fair man, but this is your final chance. If you're gone, I mean it, you're gone."

"I know. Thank you, sir." She walked out of the office.

"So?" Lita asked.

"I have until after Heat."

"Oh, Ange, that's great."

"Yeah," Angel shrugged. "Great and yet not very likely."

"Don't worry," Jeff said confidently. "I'll find the Rock and convince him for you."

Angel stared at Jeff. She wanted to believe him, but he'd said something like that once before. Chris Jericho hadn't signed, so why would the Rock?

* * * *

Angel and Tim lay in each other's arms in their hotel room.

"So, tell me about this petition," Tim said finally.

"There's not much to tell. I get fifteen people to sign it or I'll have security physically removing me. I have until Sunday to get one more or I'm gone."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" Tim asked softly.

"Yeah, it would. I have goals, Tim, plans. If I can't stay, they go too."

"But you could come home."

"You don't understand. I don't expect you to. This is something I have to do. I need revenge, Tim."

"You've never been vengeful before."

"I'd never been hit with a ring bell before. I promise you, as soon as I get my own back on Richards, I'll come home."

"Will you?" Tim wondered aloud. "Or maybe just when you're about to, someone else will piss you off and you'll stick around to fight them, too. I've seen you around here, Angel. You love it. I know it wouldn't take much to convince you to stay."

"No," Angel argued. "Just Richards. That's all I want."

"Do you miss us, Angel? Do you miss me?"

"Of course I…"

"I want the truth."

"Of course I do, Tim. I love you. All this, it isn't home. It's dingy hotel rooms and endless training sessions that leave me physically and mentally exhausted."

"And yet you're desperate to get your last signature so you can stay."

"Revenge, Tim."

"It's not revenge," Tim sighed. "Revenge is using a wheel lock on the bloke's rental car. Revenge is taking the last steak from catering and leaving him with tuna surprise. Revenge is stealing the guy's girlfriend – not that I want you to do that. Revenge isn't killing yourself for something that might never happen."

"This industry depends on 'might'. If that's all I have, it's good enough."

"But when, Angel? Weeks, months, years?"

"I don't know," Angel admitted. "But I know I have to see it through."

"You don't, Angel."

"I do, Tim."

Tim sighed. "I want you to come home."

"I will," Angel replied. "As soon as…"

"No, you're not hearing me. I want you to come home with me on Sunday. Everyone misses you, Angel, more than you could know. Just come home, forget about the fifteenth name. Leave this crazy dream…"

"You think I'm crazy?" Angel cut in.

"No, I don't, but…"

"Yes you do. Everyone does. The only people who take me seriously are Lita, Jeff and Al Snow. They believe in me. Why can't you?"

"It's not normal, Angel. Normal people don't beat each other up with doll heads and ring bells."

"What's normal, Tim?"

"Not this, that's for sure."

"I need to do this, Tim. You don't understand how much."

"You're damn right I don't understand. Angel, come home with me on Sunday. If you don't, I can't guarantee that I'll be waiting when you do get back."

Angel frowned. "You…you want to break up with me?"

"No, of course I don't but I…I feel like I'm losing you, Angel. If you catch that plane with me I'll know that you're still mine. If you don't…" He trailed off.

"You're telling me to choose?" Angel asked.

"Yes, I suppose I am."

Angel lay still for a moment, then got to her feet. "Screw you, Tim. How can you do that? All I want is for you to understand."

Tim sat up. "And all I want is to be with you. Why can't you understand that?"

Angel put her hands on her hips. "I can't believe you'd ask me to choose."

"And I can't believe you'd expect me to hear about all the times you've been hit in the head and then expect me to be cool with it. For all I know, that's why you're acting like this."

Angel glared at him. "That's it," she said evenly. "That's enough. You just made my choice for me. I love you with all my heart but no, Tim, no. That's it." She stepped over to the door.

"Angel, wait!" Tim called, but she left the room and slammed the door. He raced over and opened it, then looked outside to see her standing next door. Jeff Hardy took her into his arms and led her into his room. Tim shook his head and stepped back inside. Some time over the last month and a bit he'd lost her. He knew it. He didn't know where, when, why or how but he was beginning to figure out who. And the answer to that was simple. Jeff Hardy.


	18. No Choice

Title: No Choice

Rating: PG-13 for language, violence and angsty-type things

Spoilers: As listed

Summary: After the reprieve, there's still just one more signature to go, but time's running out. Tick tock…tick tock…tick tock (thanks, Rocky!)

HEAT/NO WAY OUT, FEBRUARY 25TH, 2001

Lita and the Hardyz accompanied Angel and Tim to the airport, despite the fact that they had a match that night. Well, Matt did. While the match with Rikishi wasn't on the Pay Per View card itself, it was the only match booked for Heat, so they were responsible for jerking the curtain for No Way Out.

Angel herself had been quite friendly with Tim since Thursday, even returning to the room they shared. While things weren't the same between them, Tim had spent a lot of money coming out to see her, and she loved him for that.

Matt and Jeff helped Tim check in his luggage, then the four of them took him to the gate.

"Well, Tim," Matt started. "It was nice meeting you and I hope you have a safe trip back."

Tim shook his hand.

Lita was next. "I'm sorry we didn't get to hang out much, but me and Matt were long overdue on some 'us' time." She kissed Tim on the cheek.

"That's okay," he replied. "I get that."

Lita smiled. "Maybe I'll come out to Australia and meet all Angel's friends some time."

"That'd be great," Tim told her.

"Take care," Lita finished.

Jeff grabbed Tim by the shoulders and led him away from the others. "Other than Angel, I probably spent the most time with you," he said. "So I thought I'd give you something to remember me by." He reached into the bag he was carrying and handed Tim a Hardy Boyz T-shirt. "Try that on for size. If you wash it a few times it might fade, then it'll fit in great with your style."

Tim frowned at him.

"I'm kidding," Jeff shrugged, but he didn't crack a smile. "It's a cool shirt. I sometimes wear one like it."

Tim nodded and shook his hand. "Thanks, Jeff. You're a pretty good bloke, even if you do want to get into Angel's pants."

Jeff didn't even bat an eyelid. "No, thank you, Tim. Thank you for making the biggest mistake of your life. You let her go and now there's nothing standing in my way. She's going to be mine. And I just have to thank you for that. Have a nice trip back and I wish you luck, I really do." He turned and walked back to the others. "Gel, you're up."

Angel focused on Tim and walked over to him. "So," she started.

"So," Tim echoed, equally lost for words.

Angel wrapped her arms around him and held him tight. "Thank you so much for coming, Tim. It really means a lot to me. It does."

Tim broke away so he could look her in the eyes. "Not enough though, huh?"

Angel frowned. "No, Tim. I don't want us to leave angry at each other. Just…I'm glad you came."

"Me too," Tim nodded. "When you get back, give me a buzz. I know neither of us can promise anything, but we can at least hang out."

"Definitely." She squeezed him again. "Oh, I'll miss you."

"Me too. Try to stay out of trouble, okay?"

Angel gave him a sad little smile. "Me? Trouble?"

Tim laughed as the PA system announced his flight. "Well, that's me. I'll see you, psycho."

Angel nodded. "See ya, derro boy." She kissed him on the cheek and he gave her one last smile, then turned to leave.

Angel watched him go as Lita, Matt and Jeff stepped up behind her. 

"Well, there he goes," she murmured, tears filling her eyes. "I sure am going to miss him." Jeff put an arm around her and she tilted her head onto his shoulder. "You guys didn't get to know him, but he really is a cool guy."

They said nothing, just surrounded her as Tim walked out of her life.

Tim himself turned at the last moment. He saw her standing there, amongst her friends and cousin, her head on Jeff's shoulder. 

"Take good care of her, mate," he said aloud. "She's worth every moment."

* * * *

Angel sat with Jeff in her office. She was sad Tim was gone and even sadder that it was officially over between them, but she still had one more signature to get or she'd be seeing him a lot sooner than he thought.

Jeff was sitting with her, hoping to intercept the Rock as he inevitably arrived early for No Way Out. Ordinarily, Angel would shy from Jeff hanging out on a night when she had no valet clients lined up, but tonight wasn't about clients. It was about signatures and if Jeff saw anyone he'd remotely consider a friend or even acquaintance, Angel wanted them on board.

She looked down the hallway and couldn't believe her luck. "Essa Rios!" she shouted.

Essa made his way to her table. "Hola, Angel. Hola, Hardy Boy."

Jeff glared at Essa and he swallowed deeply.

"How are you, Essa?" Angel asked in Spanish.

Essa shrugged and replied in the same language. "You know, Angel. No match, but I still have my job so…" He shrugged. "It is good."

Angel nodded. "That's good to hear. Tell me, Essa, could you do me a big favor?"

"A favor, Angel?"

"Yes. Could you sign a list so I can stay around here? If you don't, they're going to send me home."

Essa frowned and backed away. "No, no, Angel."

"Why not, Essa? I'll be someone for you to talk to. I know it must be hard when you don't speak very good English."

Essa sighed, exasperated. "No, Angel," he repeated, before attempting some faltering English. "I do not…wanting to be jumping on the feet of any person. I am sorry if…you thinking I am."

"_No entiendo_," Angel replied, before continuing in that language. "Tell me in Spanish, Essa."

Essa backed off even more. "No, Angel. I should never have talked to you at all. You're not worth this much." And with that, he turned and walked away.

"No luck, huh?" Jeff asked softly.

Angel's eyes were downcast. "He told me I wasn't worth it."

"He's an asshole," Jeff spat. "Selfish Mexican piece of shit."

Angel grabbed his shoulder. "It's okay. There's plenty more fish in the sea…or wrestlers in the arena."

"Don't give up," Jeff agreed. "Hey, it's the Rock. Hey, Rock! Come here a minute."

The Rock didn't even turn around, just kept on walking. "Not now, jabroni. Can't you see the Rock is about to win back his WWF title from Kurt Angle? The clock is ticking, Kurt Angle. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock." And then he was gone.

Jeff slammed his hands down on the table. "I hate Pay Per View night! We're running out of options. I'll see if I can think of someone relatively harmless for you to make friends with. It's too bad no one's seen the Mean Street Posse in a while…" He trailed off.

Matt appeared, hand in hand with Lita. "Well, it's show time. Any luck?"

Jeff and Angel both shook their heads.

"Keep trying," Matt advised. "There's still time."

"Good luck, Matt," Angel said.

"Thanks. We'll see you later."

As they left, Angel looked down at her watch. The Rock was right. The clock was ticking. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.

* * * *

Angel and Jeff watched on the little TV as Matt got demolished by Rikishi, just as Jeff had several nights earlier. It did not look good at all and when Rikishi landed the Banzai Drop on Matt, Jeff turned to Angel. "Are you thinking screwjob?"

Angel smiled. "No. I'm thinking it's probably my last night and I can't think of a better way to spend it than beating the hell out of a big fat sack of crap."

Jeff grinned. "Let's go."

They jumped the table and raced down the hall, through the backstage area and down the ramp. The bell rang, signaling the end of the match. Rikishi was declared the winner, but that didn't stop Matt, Lita, Jeff and Angel from bringing him down and kicking him as hard as they could.

"That's for the ass avalanche on Jeff!" Angel cried. "And that's for the ass avalanche on Matt. And that's for sticking your big fat ass in Lita's face."

"And that's for almost sticking your big fat ass in Matt's face," Lita added.

The party was broken up by the appearance of Haku.

"Great," Angel muttered. "Broccoli boy's here." She, Lita and the Hardyz scattered, but met on the ramp where they formed a tight group and walked together to the locker room.

"It's not going to happen," Angel shrugged. "But I sure have had fun."

Lita, Matt and Jeff surrounded her in a huge group hug.

"Oh, Ange," Lita cried. "I'm going to miss you so much!"

"Yeah," Angel sighed. "I guess I should've booked a seat on Tim's flight."

Any reply any of them might have had was cut short by the sound of Jeff's watch alarm.

"Here goes," Angel murmured. "You guys coming with me?"

"Of course!" Jeff cried and they left the room.

"You can still stick around," Matt told Angel. "You just won't be able to come backstage."

Angel shook her head. "Security's going to be watching for me. I won't be allowed within a hundred yards of any of you."

"That's crazy!" Lita cried. "You're my cousin."

"That'll teach me for making a deal with Vince McMahon," Angel sighed as she reached his office. She knocked and was invited inside. This time, she didn't even bother to sit.

"So, Angel, anything new to report?"

Angel shook her head. "Nope."

"You didn't get the last signature?"

"Nope."

"So, you'll be leaving us."

"Yep."

"You don't seem to upset."

"I'm devastated. I just don't want to cry in front of you."

Vince nodded. "Well, I guess I'll have to call up security and have you escorted from the arena."

Angel nodded. "I understand. Thank you for your time, sir."

"No, Angel, thank you and I hope you continue to support the World Wrestling Federation in the years ahead." He picked up the phone. "This is Mr. McMahon. Send up your two best men to take care of a little problem in my office. Thank you." He put down the phone and nodded over at Angel. "They'll be a minute or so. They need to take care of some drunks at the concession stand first."

Angel returned his nod and the room lapsed into silence. It was broken moments later as Chris Benoit burst in.

Both Angel and Vince were equally unimpressed by the intrusion.

"Benoit, I'm in a private meeting. And anyway, didn't I give you a title shot tonight?"

Benoit nodded. "But this meeting also concerns me."

Vince raised his eyebrows. "Just how, exactly?"

Benoit switched his gaze between Vince and Angel. "Just suppose, okay, suppose I was to sign the girl's petition. She would stay then, eh?"

Vince nodded slowly. "That's the deal, provided you sign before No Way Out. Would you like to sign?"

Benoit shook his head. "What I'd like is to make a deal with the girl."

Vince noticed the glare that passed between them and broke into a smirk. "Go ahead. I'd actually like to see this."

Benoit turned to face Angel. "Why didn't you ask me to sign your petition? Well, why didn't you?"

Angel shrugged indifferently. "Because I didn't think you'd do it."

"Oh, you didn't, huh? Would it have killed you to ask? The worst I could have done is refuse."

Angel shook her head. "I don't trust you. You could have torn it up and then I'd need to start over."

Benoit smirked. "That would have been childish of me."

Angel shrugged, not making the obvious comment. "Will you sign?"

"That depends," Benoit stated. "On what you'd be willing to do for it."

Angel hated that about him most of all – the way he was constantly trying to get at her. She vowed she wouldn't let him do it. Not now, not ever. "What exactly did you have in mind?" she asked evenly.

Benoit abruptly turned to face Vince. "Do you know how many times I've asked this girl to be my valet? And still she refuses. She's trying to earn enough money to survive and yet she continually turns away wrestlers of the caliber of me. I wouldn't say that was very smart, would you?"

Vince smiled a little. "No, not at all."

"You want me to be your valet tonight? Fine, I'll do it. There, are you happy?"

Benoit turned back to her, smirk in place. "No, princess. You see, that doesn't quite cut it. Maybe if you'd asked me on Monday I'd have been satisfied with that. But now, I'm your last chance. Whether you like it or not, you need me."

Angel glared at him. "What do you want, Benoit?"

He grinned. "I want you to be my valet."

Angel was losing her patience. "I thought you just said…"

"No," Benoit cut her off. "I want you to be my permanent valet."

Angel blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You will belong to me," Benoit continued. "If I want you to be somewhere, you will be there. From tonight and every night. You will join me in the locker room with the other Radicalz. You will accompany me to the ring. You don't have to do anything, you just have to be there."

Angel frowned. "No. I won't do it."

Benoit smirked. "I don't see that you have a choice."

Angel sighed. He was right. "What about other clients? If I'm with you in the locker room, no one will be able to hire me."

"Well, isn't that just too bad. You'll belong to me. You won't need them."

"I need them. I need the money or I might as well just go home."

"When you're with me, everything will be taken care of. When you're alone, you pay your own way."

"That's not good enough," Angel told him. "I need at least four clients a week just for transport and a contribution towards a hotel room."

Benoit nodded thoughtfully. "I can give you three matches per show. Me, Dean and Eddie. I'd offer you four, but Perry already has the slut."

Angel raised her eyebrows. "Three per show?"

Benoit nodded. "If Dean and Eddie don't want you, or if we don't have any matches, that's okay. I'll still pay you. But me…you don't have to worry about that. If I have a match, you'll be there."

Angel thought about it. Financially, she couldn't beat that. "What if I do manage to get other clients?"

Benoit shook his head. "No."

"Matt, Lita and Jeff," Angel said. "I owe them."

"You really don't," Benoit told her. "But fine. Those three only. And only if they're not against the Radicalz."

"Al Snow?"

"No."

"He's my coach."

"I don't care," Benoit shrugged. "Now, do we have a deal?"

"One more thing," Angel told him. "With Lita and the Hardyz I'm safe. I need the same from you. I don't trust you like I trust them so I need to know I won't be hurt."

"I can only speak for myself," Benoit told her. "But if anyone so much as touches you, I will personally make sure they are very, very sorry."

"And you?" Angel asked.

"That won't happen," Benoit told her.

"I need assurance," Angel insisted. "If you hurt me, our deal ends. I can go."

Benoit nodded. "Okay. That's fair. Because it won't happen."

Angel nodded slowly. "Alright. I don't like it, but I'll do it. You have to keep your word. If you break it, I'm leaving."

Benoit smirked. "It's settled then." He held out his hand and Angel shook it tentatively. Then she took the paper from her pocket and handed it to him. She still half expected him to tear it up, then turn and attack her. But he didn't. He simply unfolded the paper, placed it on Mr. McMahon's desk, picked up a pen and, in the space next to fifteen, signed his name. He looked up at Vince. "I think this takes care of it."

Vince nodded. "It's all in order and still a few minutes before No Way Out. Congratulations, Angel."

"Thanks," Angel replied sullenly.

Just then, two burly security guards entered the room. "Mr. McMahon, you said there was a problem?"

Vince put his hands in the air. "There was, but this gentleman seems to have it under control. Good luck with your match, Chris. I know I can count on you to teach Chris Jericho how it's appropriate to speak to a woman."

Benoit nodded, smirk in place. "You can. Come on, little girl," he said, grabbing Angel's arm. "My match is second and Eddie and I still have an interview with that bitch Garcia." 

He pulled her roughly from the room.

Lita, Matt and Jeff noticed them and leaped to their feet.

"Benoit, let her go. What are you doing?"

Benoit turned and smirked at them. "Why don't you tell them, princess?"

Angel scowled and turned to the worried faces of her friends. "I have to go with him," she said softly. "I had no choice."

They were stunned. "No, Angel," Lita whispered.

"I'm sorry," Angel murmured. "I had to do it."

"Come on," Benoit snapped. "We're late already."

He pulled her along and started chuckling evilly with the protests of Lita and the Hardyz ringing in his ears like the sweetest music.

* * * *

Angel watched from behind the cameraman as Benoit and Guerrero gave their pre-match interview. They talked about their Fatal Four-Way match with Chris Jericho and X-Pac and said that they planned to work as a team to win one of them the Intercontinental Title.

In a lot of ways, Benoit and Guerrero were exact opposites. While Benoit was cool, methodical and calculating, Eddie was over-the-top, erratic and spontaneous. Yet they were firm friends, and had been for years.

Angel couldn't help wondering how a man like Benoit could keep one good friend, let alone three like Guerrero, Malenko and Saturn. He didn't exactly have the type of personality people flocked to…or the looks. But did any of the Radicalz, really? Angel pondered this question. Each of them was deluded in some way. Saturn thought he had great fashion sense and that his girlfriend was beautiful. More than this, he thought he was hardcore and that the Radicalz would miss his skills if he was gone. Guerrero and Malenko each thought they were hot stuff, when one had a mullet, the other was going bald and they both talked kind of funny. But love isn't entirely superficial and if women could see past those things they'd find…two rude, misogynistic, violent assholes. At least they had a sense of humor – they'd have to with the stuff that came spewing from their mouths at regular intervals. Benoit was perhaps the most deluded of all. He thought he was untouchable, unstoppable. He was a lone wolf…or wolverine, who commanded the Radicalz because they had joined the cult of the crippler. He was their leader. If he said jump, they didn't even pause long enough to ask how high. They just jumped. They needed him, he didn't need them. Hell, he didn't need anyone. He was wrong. If the Radicalz broke up it would probably destroy him. And, all of a sudden, the beginnings of a plan formed in Angel's mind. She may have been caught in Benoit's trap, but when that thing snapped shut, hers wouldn't be the only broken back. She smiled to herself as her thoughts took shape.

"Let's get moving, little girl." Benoit grabbed her arm again and she looked up defensively. The interview was over. It was time for her to be a valet.

* * * *

"So, mamacita, are you excited about this big match, eh?" Eddie asked as they walked towards the backstage area.

Angel didn't reply.

"What, she don't say nothing, essa?" Eddie asked Benoit, who turned his head to look at Angel.

"He's talking to you. Answer him."

"I'm a valet. I accompany you to and from the ring. Anything else, including talking to you, is up to me."

Eddie frowned at her. "Well, aren't we the little _zorra_, huh?"

Angel formed a sarcastic smile. "When faced with such a complete _imbécil_, yes, we are."

Eddie spun around and tried to grab her but Benoit stopped him. "Hey! Cut this crap out. Eddie, you and me have a match to win and you," he said to Angel. "I thought you said you were going to shut up."

Angel shook her head. "I said it was my choice whether or not I talked."

"How about I give you ten bucks extra to shut your mouth?"

Angel smiled sweetly. "Done." 

She was silent for the rest of the walk. Too bad the same couldn't be said for Eddie.

"Chris, man. I don't like this girl. Let's lose the broad, huh?"

Benoit glared at him. "You don't have to like her. I'm the one who paid for her."

Eddie raised his eyebrows and turned to Angel. "_Puta_."

Angel said nothing. She slowly raised her hand, turned her palm inwards, and gave him the finger.

* * * *

One not-so-friendly exchange with Eddie and Angel's plan was already starting to come into being. Eddie and Benoit worked very well as a team until Eddie surprised Benoit by violently breaking a cover his friend had made. At first, Angel was equally stunned, but after the incident, Eddie looked down at her and smiled.

'Damn idiot,' she thought. 'He doesn't realize I don't give a crap what happens to Benoit.'

Benoit and Eddie were both talented but, because they kept fighting each other, Jericho could concentrate on X-Pac, his other opponent. This proved challenging enough when X-Pac's friend Justin Credible showed up for the screwjob. However, it was somehow avoided and Jericho eventually rolled up Benoit for the pin and the three count.

Throughout the match, Angel hadn't said a word. In fact, the only time she'd even moved was to get out of the way when the action came too close.

Angel looked up as Jericho's hand was raised in victory. Despite the fact that he was friends with Matt and Jeff, it seemed so empty to Angel. If only he'd signed – not really a large request – she wouldn't be in this mess, stuck as permanent valet for a man she abhorred. Her eyes burned holes in Jericho and he looked down, noticing her for the first time. He looked surprised.

"Be surprised," Angel murmured as Benoit made his way over to her. "Because it's partly your fault. Benoit might have offered the deal, but you could have saved me from having to agree to it. And you didn't."

"Let's go," Benoit said, roughly grabbing her arm. "Latino Heat and I have some talking to do."

* * * *

Angel hadn't seen any of the rest of the Pay Per View. She'd been forced to return to the Radicalz locker room and sit in on a discussion that Benoit called a 'debriefing' but which more resembled a hybrid of a wake and a civil war.

It had mostly consisted of Benoit and Guerrero screaming at each other and Malenko and Saturn trying to prevent them from getting physical as Angel and Terri sat quietly on opposite sides of the room.

Malenko tried to tell Benoit that he didn't appreciate Angel's presence but he was ignored. This argument was about Eddie and Benoit made sure everyone knew it.

They said the same things over and over and argued for what seemed like hours, and probably was. Eventually, Eddie ended it by storming out.

"Good," Benoit said coolly, though he was still fuming. "Now we'll all fit in the same car."

Angel shook her head. "I'm going with Lita, Matt and Jeff."

Malenko looked at his watch. "It's after midnight. They probably left. I wouldn't wait for you this long."

"Yeah, but you're a son of a bitch," Angel replied matter-of-factly. She looked at Benoit, not caring what Malenko's reply would be. "Can I go?"

Benoit simply nodded and Angel exited. She reached the Hardyz locker room and tried the door, but it was locked. She glanced at the bottom of the door and noticed there was no light peeking through. They had left her.

"Great," she muttered, leaning back against the door and sinking to the ground. 

"Looks as though you're riding with us after all."

Angel got to her feet and joined the group. 

"I suppose I am," she replied evenly.

Benoit drove and Malenko called shotgun so Angel was left in the back with Perry and Terri, who wouldn't stop slobbering over each other.

Angel looked out the window at the bright Vegas lights and sighed. 

"This is a nightmare," she murmured. "An absolute nightmare."

* * * *

Lita, Matt and Jeff were holed up in Lita's room, waiting for Angel's return.

"I can't believe she had to be Benoit's valet," Jeff said, probably for the seventh time.

Matt shrugged. "At least she got a match at pay per view. I know everyone in this room wishes they could say the same."

"But Benoit?" Jeff asked.

"She had no other choice," Matt argued. "It was either that or leave."

"But Benoit?" Jeff said again.

"Oh well," Matt sighed. "It's over now, anyway."

"I don't know," Lita put in. "There's something about this I don't like. The looks on their faces were too intense for one simple match."

"I think you're both worrying about nothing," Matt announced. "She didn't even get hurt."

"Then why isn't she back yet?' Jeff asked.

"That's what I'd like to know," Lita added.

At that moment, the door opened and Angel, looking thoroughly drained, entered.

"Hi guys," she murmured, flopping down on the bed next to Jeff.

"Are you okay, Ange?" Lita asked.

Angel shook her head.

"Did those jerks hurt you?" Jeff questioned.

She shook her head again. "I'm sorry," she whispered, more to herself than anything. "I had to do it. I had no choice."

And then, with her friends surrounding her, she fell asleep.


	19. Prisoners & Slaves

Title: Prisoners And Slaves

Rating: PG-13 for language, adult themes (stripping, mostly), power games and violence

Spoilers: For the date given, including some direct dialogue from Benoit and Guerrero

Disclaimer: I wanna own the Radicalz, especially B & G. But I don't. WWE does. Same with all the other wrestlers featured here, including poor little Jeffy. Oh wait, Stacy Carter owns herself…but the WWF still own "The Kat"…I think.

Summary: Chris Benoit owns Angel. Somehow she has to get free, but his is a tightly constructed plan and it's not going to be easy…

RAW IS WAR, FEBRUARY 26TH, 2001

"Look, there must be some mistake," Lita blurted, slamming her fists down on the reception desk. "I booked a room with two beds. This room only has one."

"I'll just check for you," the receptionist said amiably, tapping the keys at the computer. "I'm sorry, but you're definitely booked for a single."

"I'm not," Lita insisted. "Fine, I'll change it for a double."

The receptionist looked sympathetic. "I'm sorry, but we're completely booked tonight. There are no rooms available at all."

"You're kidding me," Lita scowled. "My cousin is supposed to share with me – that's why we need two beds. Why can every other hotel in the country get it right when you can't?"

The receptionist looked a little worried. "Perhaps I can run your cousin's name if there's been a mix-up."

"No. We always book under my name."

"It won't hurt to check."

"Fine," Lita sighed. "Ange, come here a minute."

Angel stepped up to the desk.

"Can I ask your name?" the receptionist questioned.

"Angel Torres. T-O-double R-E-S."

"Torres," the receptionist repeated, typing it out. "Yes, we do have a room booked for you. Two seventeen." She went to collect the key and handed it to Angel. "I hope you enjoy your stay."

"Wait a minute. I didn't book this room."

"Sure you did. Booked and paid for in your name."

"Paid for?" Angel questioned. "When?"

"Last night. By credit card."

"Last night? I thought you were full."

"We are. As of last night."

Angel frowned. It was pointless trying to work it out. "Okay. Thank you."

"I'll go with you," Lita told her as they walked away from the lobby. 

"You don't think it's Benoit, do you?" Angel asked her.

"Benoit's not smart or powerful enough to change my booking," Lita told her.

"Mr. McMahon, then?" Angel wondered. "Coming through with his promise of treating me like everyone else?"

Lita shook her head. "Mr. McMahon doesn't pay for our rooms. We do."

"Well then," Angel shrugged. "I guess I have another admirer."

"It's going to be interesting to see who your neighbors are," Lita told her. "Maybe then we'll be able to crack it."

"Maybe," Angel agreed. "But if it's William Regal I'm going to be very, very upset."

* * * *

Keeping one hand on her sticks and with Lita standing guard behind her, Angel knocked at the room next door to hers. The door slowly opened.

"Howdy, Angel! What are you doin' here?"

Lita looked down at Molly and immediately backed away. "Hey, Ange, I'll leave you here with Molly to get it figured out. Come find me in Matt and Jeff's room when you're done."

Angel turned to her and nodded, then looked back at Molly with a puzzled expression.

"Guess she didn't want to stick around," Molly shrugged. "Can't say I blame her, what with tonight, and all."

"What's tonight?" Angel asked. 

"Me and your cousin have a number one contender's match."

"You do? Lita didn't tell me."

Molly shrugged. "It won't be a grudge match, so you don't have to worry. So, why did you say you were here?"

"I just got a room next door and I wanted to find out who my neighbors are."

"Oh, you did?" Molly cried. "Great!"

Angel smiled at her enthusiasm. "Well, now I've found out that you're here I can't complain. Who else is around here?"

"Hardcore and Crash are across the hall. I usually stay between Essa Rios and K-Kwik, but I guess you've got one of them now."

Angel nodded. "I tried the other door but no one answered. There was some sort of rap or something blaring out of there, though."

Molly nodded. "That'd be K-Kwik. He's fun. Essa I don't know so well because I can't speak Mexican. I know some other people around here, too. Watch out for Albert, he's a real big grouch. Also across the hall usually are Too Cool. They're also fun. They have the craziest dance parties, you wouldn't believe it."

Angel smiled. "So you like staying around here?"

Molly grinned. "It's great! I am so glad you're here, too. Hey, I know you probably won't be rooting for me tonight, but after I win we should hang out."

Angel nodded. "If you win, Moll. Lita's a former champ."

"And I'm a future champ!" Molly cried. "This is so great, Angel. I can't believe you're next door!"

* * * *

"So, what's the verdict?" Lita asked.

"Molly, Crash, Hardcore, K-Kwik, Albert, Too Cool and Essa Rios."

The three of them nodded. 

"New meat and lowcarders," Matt commented. "Just like Angel."

"Maybe Vince did do it," Jeff added. "If it was Benoit, you'd think she'd be right next to him."

"She will be right next to me," called a voice from the doorway.

All four looked at him warily. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" Jeff demanded.

Benoit ignored him and looked calmly over at Angel. "You. Now."

"When are you going to leave her alone?" Matt cried. "You don't own her."

Benoit broke into a grin, raised his hand and beckoned her. "I don't have all day, little girl."

"You're just about out of time, actually," Jeff told him. 

Next to him, Angel got to her feet and walked towards the door. 

"I'll handle it," she told the others.

"Kick his ass, Ange," Lita called after her.

Angel walked right up to Benoit and looked into his cold eyes. "Out."

Benoit raised his eyebrows and took a step backwards. A moment later, Angel surprised everyone by stepping after him and closing the door behind her. It was several minutes before they realized she wasn't coming back.

* * * *

As soon as Angel shut the door, Benoit looked at her skeptically. "You haven't told them." It was a statement, not a question.

"It wasn't in our deal to tell them," Angel replied testily.

"Not that I care, but they'll think you've turned against them," Benoit advised.

"No, they'll think you've kidnapped me," Angel replied. "And that's how I prefer it."

Benoit just shrugged and grabbed her arm. Angel tried to yank it away.

"Must you grab at me all the time?"

Benoit didn't relax his grip. "Yes, I must."

Angel just sighed and let him lead her. "Where the hell are we going, anyway?"

Benoit just started laughing.

"Tell me, asshole."

The laugh continued and so did the walk. Suddenly Angel jumped ahead on one leg and used the other to hook Benoit's, sending him stumbling forward. He had to release her to regain his balance and when he did he spun furiously to find her standing with her hands on her hips.

"Tell me where we're going or I'm not taking another step."

Benoit stared at her, nodded slowly, then broke into his smirk. Reaching forward, he picked her up and put her easily over his shoulder.

"Screw you, Benoit," Angel scowled as he carried her through the hotel.

"I wouldn't try me, little girl," Benoit replied. "You don't know how mean I can get."

* * * *

"The ring?' Angel asked as they stepped through the area that would contain the crowd.

Benoit didn't answer. He released her and went on ahead, where he climbed into the ring. He had that look on his face – the one he always got when he was competing. Angel watched him with a frown as he paced out the ring, sometimes closing his eyes for a few seconds. He stepped over to the ropes and tugged at them, then climbed to the top turnbuckle.

"I don't care," he said softly, before climbing down. 

He leaned back into the ropes as far as he could, then sprang forward into the opposite ropes. Back and forward, between the ropes. Finally, he stopped in the middle and closed his eyes.

"I don't care at all."

Eyes still closed, he twitched his muscles a little bit, then nodded rapidly, as if his head was on a spring. Finally, he opened his eyes and stared out at Angel.

"You," he said roughly. "Here."

Angel swallowed. His display had been disturbing and somewhat scary – the pacing, the talking to himself, the nodding. Taking a deep breath, she approached the ring. 

"Why?"

"Training."

"I've trained already. Before we left Vegas."

"Have you ever trained in the arena itself?"

Angel shook her head. "But I don't want to."

"No?"

"No."

"Then why are you in the ring?"  
Angel glared at him, then suddenly lunged forward and pushed him. He was ready for it, caught her quickly and slammed her to the canvas. Then he hooked her right arm, sat on her back and locked on the crossface.

"Argh!" Angel screamed, clenching her left fist.

"Tap out!" Benoit hissed.

Angel kept screaming.

"Tap out and I'll let go."

"Argh!"

"You want me to break your back? Tap out!"

Summoning all her strength, Angel swung her left arm and punched him, forcing his hands into her mouth. She bit down, hard. Benoit yelped and released her.

"Stupid girl!" he shouted. "I could have killed you!"

Angel slowly got to her feet and glared at him. "And I could have bitten your damn hand off."

Benoit scowled. "I let go because if I hadn't you wouldn't be standing right now. Next time, tap out."

"Never," Angel spat, turning and walking away with one hand on her back and the other wiping away tears.

"Where are you going?" Benoit demanded. "I said, where are you going?"

Angel spun back around, furiously. "You hurt me. Our deal is over."

"I didn't hurt you," Benoit argued, walking after her. 

"The hell you didn't."

"I didn't hurt you! You were supposed to tap out. I was teaching you."

Angel faced him again. "I have two perfectly good teachers."

Benoit shook his head. "They haven't taught you to tap from submission. Some teachers."

"They have something you'll never have. Heart."

Benoit blinked. "Heart? Heart?" He shook his head and uttered the same words as before. "I don't care."

"I know you don't. I'm out of here."

"If you'd tapped out, you wouldn't be hurt."

Angel turned again. "If you hadn't jumped on me I wouldn't be hurt either."

"If you hadn't shoved me I wouldn't have had to retaliate."

"We were training!" Angel blurted and immediately regretted it.

Benoit smirked. "Training. It doesn't count. It's not real."

"My dead back is pretty damn real."

Benoit shrugged. "Aggravated injury from too many suplexes taken the wrong way with Al Snow. That wouldn't happen with proper training."

Angel had to admit her back was no more sore than after a typical training session.

"I didn't hurt you," Benoit repeated.

Angel sighed as he grabbed her arm and led her away.

"Now where are we going?"

"You don't train properly. I'm going to make sure you at least eat properly."

Angel sighed again. If only he'd really hurt her. She'd have to try harder next time.

* * * *

"Sit here. I'll get the food," Benoit commanded as they walked through the catering area to a long table where Malenko, Saturn and Terri were seated. 

"How do I know you won't poison my food?" Angel asked.

"You don't," Benoit replied flatly, before looking over at his fellow Radicalz. "Keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn't leave."

"You got it, Chris," Saturn stated.

Benoit nodded to himself, then turned and left.

Angel looked around the table. If she sat where she was, Malenko would be next to her and 'the Saturns' opposite them. For a moment she considered taking out her sticks and giving Malenko a memory check, but her back spasmed slightly and she lost the urge. Not even attacking Malenko was fun anymore. She sat down quietly and was ignored by the other three as they discussed Malenko's Light-Heavyweight Title match with a guy called Taka Michinoku. 

Angel honestly didn't care who took Malenko's title away and soon her attention and eyes began to wander. They traveled around the room, eventually stopping on a particular table. There sat her old friends, Right To Censor. They appeared to be praying, but it was like no prayer Angel had ever seen. They seemed truly cult-ish as they lay their hands on a member's head and Richards spoke, leaving them somewhat hypnotized. They were all there. One, two, three, four, five, six? Hadn't there only been five before? Who was the one they were touching? Finally they stepped away and Angel got a good look. She – it was female – was dressed identically to Ivory. She was small and blonde and looked very scared, very young and very familiar. Suddenly it clicked.

"Oh, please God, no!" Angel cried, jumping to her feet. She stepped away from the table and started towards RTC. 

"Aren't we meant to stop her?" Saturn asked casually.

Malenko shrugged. "It's Chris's broad. She's his damn problem."

"Right," Saturn nodded and they resumed their discussion.

"Kat!" Angel cried. "What's going on? You joined RTC?"

Kat started to speak but Ivory put a hand over her mouth and Richards answered instead.

"Miss Stacy has finally seen the light. She has renounced her immoral ways and will now fight the good fight alongside her brothers and sister in Right To Censor. Miss Angel, you are encouraged to follow suit. Give up your old, tarnished life and join us. That would truly be for your own good."

"Message authorized and fully financed by the American Council of Far Right Jackasses," Angel retorted.

Richards was about to reply when they heard a cry of disgust. Ivory was wiping her hand on her skirt and, for the moment, the Kat was free.

"Angel!" she shrieked. "I had to do it! They won me. They own me. Please help, Angel, pl…ommph." The hand was back.

"Miss Stacy," Ivory said patiently. "In the Right To Censor we do not lick each other."

"Maybe you should," Angel replied. "I hear it's a known cure for anal retentives."

Richards rushed Angel and she reached for her sticks but someone stepped between them before anything started.

"Get the hell off her!" Benoit shouted, shoving Richards. "Get the hell off her. You don't touch her, okay? You don't touch her."

Richards started to reply but Benoit cut him off. "I don't care. You don't touch that girl." 

He shoved Richards again, but this time he retaliated and they fell back onto RTC's table, punching each other. Richards's cronies took the opportunity to join their leader in attacking Benoit. It was only a few seconds before Malenko, Saturn and Terri arrived to bail out their friend. The brawl escalated with even Ivory and Terri involved in some hair pulling and scratching. Somehow, in the midst of the chaos, Angel and the Kat found each other. 

Kat stared at Angel miserably and a little warily. "You're a Radical?"

Angel sighed. "Not by choice."

"A stipulation match like mine?"

Angel shook her head.

"Then you can leave!" Kat cried urgently. "The only things that are certain are matches."

"I can't," Angel replied quietly. "Benoit owns me. Maybe he doesn't tell me what to wear, but he owns me."

Kat looked at her sadly. "Then you're just like me."

The two of them hugged sadly.

"There has to be a way," Angel murmured. "It can't just be like this forever."

"It is," Kat replied. "It's like the name of the show last night. There really is no way out."

Angel reached behind Kat and undid her bun. "Shake your hair, Kat."

For the first time, Kat looked hopeful. She shook out her blonde hair and it fell in waves to her shoulders.

Angel nodded, watching her friend return to normal. "Take your shirt off, Kat."

"But…"

"No buts, Kat. You wouldn't have paused before."

Kat broke into a grin. "Right on!" Her fingers manipulated the buttons but just as she was finishing, Ivory showed up.

"Stacy!" she screamed. "Put your blouse on!"

"Go to hell, Ivory," Kat replied, cheekily.

Ivory slapped her across the face. "You are a disgrace, absolutely disgusting. Put your blouse back on."

Kat's face started to crumple and she raised a hand to it. "No," she replied tentatively.

"Put it on!" Ivory boomed as Val Venis and Bull Buchanan arrived to help. 

They held Kat relatively still and buttoned up her shirt as she screamed, "Angel! Help! Angel!"

There wasn't anything Angel could do. They were three and she was only one. If only Lita, Matt and Jeff had been there.

"Now, sit still while I fix your hair," Ivory demanded.

By now, the Kat was weeping. "No," she murmured as Ivory sat her down. "No."

Angel bit her lip and watched. As if sensing her, Ivory spun to face her. "You're to blame, Miss Angel. We are trying to save this woman and you're encouraging her in her immorality?"

"Individuality," Angel replied evenly.

Suddenly, Benoit stepped in front of her. He was fuming like a crazed bull and his eyes were wild. "I told you to sit down and stay there. Didn't I? Well? Didn't I?"

Angel took a deep breath and fixed her gaze. He wouldn't get to her. She wouldn't let him. "I was trying to help my friend."

"She's not your friend," Benoit snapped. "She's no one! She doesn't matter! Now, sit down. Do you hear me? I said, sit down!"

"I hear you," Angel scowled. "You don't have to shout."

"SIT DOWN!!" Benoit screamed, causing everyone to stop what they were doing and stare.

Angel glared at him for a few seconds longer, then returned to her place and sat, murmuring, "asshole" under her breath.

* * * *

It was getting close to match time and Benoit was all but prepared. There was only one thing missing. 

"Has anyone heard from Eddie?" he asked casually. 

His friends shook their heads. 

"How about you?" Saturn asked. "Have you talked to him?"

"No," Benoit replied, loosening his arms. 

Malenko looks up from the TV. "He knows about the match, doesn't he?"

Benoit shrugged. "I don't know. I don't care. If he doesn't show it'll be you and me, Perry."

"You got it man," Saturn replied.

At that moment, Eddie entered the locker room and strolled over to his space. 

"Hey," Benoit stopped him. "Where you been, Eddie?"

Eddie looked up incredulously. "What's it to you, essa?" He leaned into his locker, mumbling something under his breath.

"You got something to say?" Benoit demanded.

Eddie stood up again and turned to Benoit. "You know what? Just get out of my face, essa, or I might have to finish what we started last night."

"That's enough!" Saturn cried, trying to split them apart.

Benoit ignored him. "Oh, is that right?" he asked Eddie calmly.

"Yeah, that's right!" Eddie screamed. "You know what gets me, man? You know what really gets me? It's that you let a title come between us. My brother!"

Benoit glared at him. "I know you, Eddie. It's not even about that. Titles are titles and it's every man for himself. You know that."

"You know what? You're right. I _do_ know that, and you're _always_ right. Benoit always knows what's up, right, essa? He's always got himself the 411."

"You got something to say, say it!" Benoit demanded.

"Well, maybe I will, essa," Eddie replied evenly. "Maybe I will." He put a hand to his chin and paused long enough for Benoit to become impatient.

"Talk already!" he demanded, just as Eddie launched into a speech.

"You know, essa. If it was just the titles, that's okay. I can get over that. But you, Chris Benoit. Not only did you let a title come between us, but you, my brother, you let a dumb broad come between us too! What's that about, man?"

Benoit looked a little surprised. "I bought her for all of us. She's our slave, we can use her how we want."

"The hell you can," Angel muttered, causing them both to look at her.

"Nobody is asking you," Eddie told her pointedly before turning back to his friends. "You know, who here even wants her, eh? You, Dean? You, Perry? How about Terri? See, that's what I was thinking. No one wants her. Get rid of her, essa."

"That's not going to happen."

"Why not, huh? We already got one broad, we don't need no more."

"So, Perry's girl's okay, but mine's not?"

"Yeah, that's right," Malenko cut in as Angel said, "I'm not your girl."

"See, she don't belong here," Eddie announced. "Lose her, Chris. Do it for us. Do it for the Radicalz."

"No."

Now Eddie was mad. "Why in the hell not? It should always be about the team, essa. Why are you so obsessed with her anyway, huh? It's sick, man. She's young enough to be your daughter or something."

"Not everything's about sex."

"Oh no? Then tell us, Mr. Rabid Wolverine. What is it about, eh? You been chasing the _putacita_ for weeks, and now you got her, we don't hardly see you no more and when we do, she's always there, too. So tell us, Chris Benoit, what's it about?"

Benoit smirked and his eyes got a far away look. "Power, Eddie. That's what it is. Power. She doesn't like me, but now I own her and she has to do what I say. If she doesn't, she's in trouble, more than any of you could possibly imagine. You say I'm not acting like part of this team? Well, she is my gift to the team. Go ahead, tell her to do something."

The others stared at him skeptically.

"Who wants coffee? Does anyone want coffee?" Benoit suggested.

"I want coffee," Terri piped up.

"Great," Benoit grinned, turning to Angel. "Go get her some coffee, then come straight back. Hey Perry, how's your bitch like her coffee?"

"Hey!" Terri shrieked as Perry replied coolly, "Milk and cream. One Sweet n' Low."

"Go!" Benoit ordered.

Shaking her head, Angel got to her feet and left the room.

"She wouldn't put anything bad in my coffee, would she?" Terri asked nervously.

Benoit smirked. "She wouldn't dare. So, you see? She's a slave!"

The others stared around the group as acceptance slowly crossed their faces.

"Alright," Malenko smiled. "A slave."

Benoit turned back to Eddie. "We have a match soon. We have to go out there and do what we do best. Are we Radicalz?"

Eddie took a deep breath, then held out his fists. Benoit hit them, then let Eddie hit his. They were a team.

* * * *

Angel walked stiffly between Benoit and Guerrero as their entrance theme played and Lillian Garcia announced their presence.

"Hey, _putacita_," Eddie called. "About two minutes into the match, you go and get me a chair, okay?"

"No," Angel scowled.

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "If he wants a chair, you get him a chair."

"No. You might tell me what to do, but I won't cheat. Not for you, not for anyone."

"Cheat?" Eddie repeated, insulted. "'Cita, I don't want you to cheat. I'll just be getting tired in the ring, you know, and I'll be wanting to sit down. I'm gonna need a chair."

"Get your own damn chair. I'm not helping you cheat."

"Okay, fine," Benoit scowled. "Go stand in our corner and don't even think about moving."

"Fine with me," Angel murmured, walking away as Guerrero continued to complain about her.

Angel leaned on the apron and watched the action expressionlessly. As a team, Benoit and Guerrero were almost unstoppable and Angel wondered why they hadn't challenged for the tag titles. She was glad, for the Hardyz sake, that they hadn't. 

She listened as the crowd started to chant, "X-Pac sucks! X-Pac sucks!"

"X-Pac sucks?" she murmured. "He's gotta be better than my current nightmare."

As if fueled by the chant, X-Pac dropped Guerrero, then ran at the corner, knocking Benoit to the floor. If he had been her friend, Angel would have helped him up, but he was Benoit, so she just stepped out of the way and stared at him as he got to his feet.

"Come on, Eddie!" Benoit shouted as Eddie fought back, until he was brought down with a double superkick. Benoit broke the count, dragged Eddie to the corner, tagged himself in and started wreaking havoc. Finally, he signaled the headbutt, but X-Pac moved his partner from the firing line and Benoit headbutted canvas instead. Before he could recover, X-Pac rolled him up and got an unlikely three count.

X-Pac's music played and Benoit looked around, puzzled. In the corner, Eddie was just getting up and when he turned, he met with the Benoit glare.

"What?" he asked.

Benoit tore his eyes away and refocused them on Angel. He didn't say anything, just pointed strongly to the canvas.

Sighing, Angel rolled into the ring and stood next to him. On the edge of the ring, Eddie watched, his confused frown transforming into a pure scowl. He shook his head and started to leave, watched by Benoit. When Eddie was out of the ring, Benoit held the ropes so Angel could exit, then jumped down next to her and gripped her arm roughly.

They started up the ramp, with Benoit's eyes firmly fixed on Eddie.

"Can you not grip me so hard?" Angel asked.

"Shut up!" Benoit snapped. "I am not happy."

He returned his gaze to Eddie, who didn't know whether to cower or scowl. He did know well enough to let Benoit go on ahead, however, and by the time he and Angel reached the locker room, Eddie was far behind them. Benoit wrenched the door open and dragged Angel inside, then threw her into a vacant area of the room. He strode purposefully to Eddie's locker as Malenko and Saturn fell in place behind him.

"Hey Chris, we saw what happened," Malenko stated.

"Yeah man, it wasn't Eddie's fault," Saturn added.

"Shut up!" Benoit shouted, grabbing furiously at Eddie's gear. When he had it all, he walked back to the door and threw the clothes and bag out into the hallway.

Eddie was just arriving and Angel heard his shouts. "Hey! What are you doing, essa? That's all mine!"

"Go home, Eddie," Benoit replied. "You're not welcome here tonight."

"What do you mean, huh? What's your problem?"

"Just get out of here. I'll talk to you when I no longer want to kill you."

"You mean what happened in the ring? Essa, that wasn't my fault. It was X-Pac!"

"Goodbye, Eddie." Benoit shut the door and stepped inside, but they could still hear the voice.

"Oh, thanks, guys. That's real funny. Dean? Perry? Fine, guys! That's just great." He launched into some unprintable Spanish and the voice finally faded away.

"Is he gone?" Benoit asked.

Malenko got up to check. "Yeah, he's gone."

"Good."

Everyone else watched him as he took a drink and collected his gear, ready to hit the showers.

"Can I go now?" Angel asked evenly. "Lita has a number one contender's match."

"You can watch it on TV. You can't leave. You owe me two more matches tonight."

"You're kidding me."

"Actually, I'm not. I know you have a match, Dean. You want a valet?"

"If it's all the same, Chris, I'd rather not. The sooner she gets out of my sight, the better."

"Great," Angel sneered. "Can I go, then?"

"Sit down and shut up. You leave when we leave. I'm going to take a shower and if you know what's good for you, you'll be here when I get back."

Angel sighed and sank down onto the bench. She hated him, she truly hated him. Getting Eddie kicked out wasn't enough – she had to totally break up the Radicalz. That way Benoit would lose much of his power. The only way to do it was to keep pitting herself against Benoit's friends She already knew it was a dangerous game, but it was one she had to play.

************************************************************************


	20. Goodbye, Kat

Title: Goodbye, Kat

Rating: PG-13 for violence, adult themes and a whole lotta angst

Spoilers: For the date mentioned, including some 'Radical' direct dialogue

Disclaimer: All wrestlers are or were owned by Vince McMahon and the WWF/WWE. I'm borrowing them and their storylines so they can have a little fun with my Mary Jane ;-P

Summary: One of the prisoners has escaped, but it's not Angel. Hope and hopelessness in one situation. 

SMACKDOWN, MARCH 1ST, 2001

With Al Snow campaigning heavily for the commissioner's job, Blackman invited Hardcore Holly to help train Angel on Thursday morning. His style was slightly less verbal than Al's, but not too different and she was enjoying the new input.

As usual, Chris Benoit arrived to collect her when he session was over.

"See you guys later, and thanks," Angel said, kissing an uncomfortable Steve Blackman on the cheek and giving an equally apprehensive Hardcore Holly a big hug.

"Bye Angel," they chorused, watching her leave.

Hardcore turned to Blackman with a frown. "The girl's a Radical now?"

Blackman shrugged. "I guess so."

"And that doesn't bother you?"

"Bob, the only thing that'll bother me is if she tries to screw me over. It's up to her to choose who she associates with."

Hardcore nodded. "That's a fair enough point."

"Still," Blackman mused, clearing the hardcore debris from the ring. "Things have been different around here since she turned."

Hardcore frowned. "How do you mean?"

Blackman shrugged. "I'm the type of guy who doesn't say much, right? I mostly just observe. So here's what I've noticed. Since Sunday, almost everyone she was close to has gone strange in some way."

"Strange?" Hardcore repeated. "Strange how?"

"Okay, Hardys fighting Hollys for instance. You must have seen Matt giving your cousin Crash a piece of his mind."

"Seen it? I haven't heard the end of it. I had to hit him with a chair just to get him to shut up."

Blackman nodded. "Angel wouldn't have let that happen before."

"Maybe, but you and me are still getting along."

"For now," Blackman replied ominously. "I seem to remember a certain shot to the head about a week ago I still haven't repaid."

Hardcore shrugged sheepishly. "But enough about us. Who else is strange?"

"Al's started hanging out with midgets again."

"Oh, he has?" Hardcore asked with a pained expression. "I thought that was some gimmick he thought up for Raw."

"Yeah, I thought he was over it, too. But you can't even talk to him without tripping over one or two of them. I feel like I'm The Lethal Cheddar again."

Hardcore cringed. "Al's always been strange, though. You can't blame Angel for that."

"No, but that isn't even the strangest. The Kat joined Right To Censor. Now admit it, that's the last thing you would have expected."

Hardcore frowned at him. "You mean you haven't heard?"

"What?" Blackman asked.

"About the Kat and those RTC jerks."

"No, what happened?"

Hardcore broke into a grin. "If you think the world's gone mad, this should definitely ease your mind."

* * * *

"Sit down. And this time, don't even think about moving."

Angel sighed and sat next to Malenko. Why Benoit insisted she spend the whole day with him was beyond her, but that was the deal. If he wanted her by his side, she had to be there. Comparatively speaking, she was making good money for doing very little. She had been valet for only two matches, without cheering or helping or anything, and yet she'd been paid for six, plus the extra ten bucks to shut her mouth. If only she got to see her cousin and friends once in a while. She hadn't seen any of them since Monday – hanging out with the Hollys, K-Kwik and Too Cool, and taking care of Benoit's various demands had put paid to that. She looked around the room at the other diners. Lita, Matt and Jeff were nowhere to be seen. In her direct field of vision, however, were those familiar white shirts and black ties. There were only three of them today – Ivory, Bull and the Goodfather, huddled together and deep in conversation. Usually the whole crew traveled together, especially if they were talking like that. Something was wrong, She could just feel it.

At that moment Eddie appeared and dumped his food on the table, sitting antagonistically next to Angel.

"Hello, putacita. Where is your boyfriend, huh? I can't see him with you."

"Watch out, Eddie," Malenko warned. "Chris'll be back soon."

Eddie frowned at him. "I know that, Dean. You think I'm stupid or something, huh? The putacita is here, of course Chris is around somewhere. I just wanna talk, anyway. Why don't you ever talk to me, 'cita, huh?"

Angel ignored him and Eddie followed her gaze.

"Maybe you're thinking you'd rather be in Right To Censor than the Radicalz, huh? Is that what you're thinking, 'cita? 'Cause that's just fine with me. Why are you looking at 'em so much, eh? What is so special over there that you can't even look at Latino Heat when he's talking just for you?"

"It's what's not over there, you nimrod," Angel murmured.

"Oh, so she does talk. So, what's missing over there, huh? I see suits, I see ties. So, what's missing?"

Angel finally relented. "The Kat. The Kat's not there."

"Oh, the Kat," Eddie smiled. "Of course. Putas and putas. They care about each other, you know. Hanging around in a little group, being putas all together. Surely if you're so close to the other putacita, you know why she's not there."

Angel frowned. Did Eddie know something? "Where is she?"

Eddie shook his head. "No, 'cita. You gotta ask me nice. You gotta say, 'Eddie, I know you're the greatest. Only you have Latino Heat and you're the only one…'"

"Tell me!" Angel snapped.

"Okay, okay," Eddie replied. "Don't be getting your panties all entwined. She was just being a puta, of course."

Angel slammed her head into her hands. "Eddie, you're the damn puta. Now, tell me what happened to her."

"I told you, 'cita. Your friend, the Kat, she was acting like a number one prize winning, _enorme _putacita, just like you, huh?"

"Eddie, say it in English. I want to hear it too," Malenko told him.

"I don't know what 'puta' means," Terri chipped in. "But I heard she got it on with Val Venis and he let her go."

Angel was stunned. "Is that true?" she demanded, staring at Eddie.

"True, true, yes it's true. She's a puta, just like I said."

"Well, where is she?"

"Where? 'Cita, she ain't never coming back round here. The others would destroy her if she even so much as tried."

"Eddie, what the hell are you doing here?" Benoit was back.

Eddie put his hands in the air. "Easy, essa. I'm just eating like everyone else and having myself a nice little chat with your woman. Is that okay?"

"No, it's not okay. Get out of here. I don't want to see you."

Eddie frowned. "What is this, huh? Is it about Monday? I swear, my brother…"

"Either you move or I'll move you," Benoit warned.

Eddie got to his feet. "You wanna try it, huh, essa?"

In a second, they were separated by Saturn and Malenko.

"Maybe you should go, Eddie," Saturn advised. "We'll get Chris to cool down."

Eddie shrugged him away. "Yeah, like in a cold shower. I guess I'll see you later, _essa_." He gave Benoit a long hard look, picked up his food and walked away. 

Benoit sat down silently and was about to set out Angel's meal when he noticed she had her head down and face covered.

"What's wrong with her? What did Eddie do?"

"Nothing. He didn't do anything," Malenko replied.

Benoit reached out and shook her. "What's wrong with you? Look at me. I told you to look at me!"

Angel still didn't move so he grabbed her by the hair and wrenched her face away from her hands. "You crying? You don't cry. Radicalz don't cry."

"I'm not a Radical," Angel snapped, glaring at him.

"Not if you cry like that, you're not. Why the hell are you crying, little girl?"

"I don't know, okay?" Angel scowled.

"You don't know? You better work it out, then."

Angel jumped to her feet and left the table. "Don't worry, I'll be back," she called over her shoulder. "You still own me."

"Get back here! Sit down and eat your food!"

"Screw you," Angel spat, continuing on her way.

Benoit was flabbergasted. "Who did that?" he demanded. "Why was she crying?"

The other three looked equally bewildered. 

"Eddie just told her about the Kat, then she started weeping like a little baby," Malenko said.

"The Kat," Benoit repeated. "Who's she? She's no one, that's who. Why would she make anyone cry?"

"Beats me," Saturn shrugged. "I think they were friends or something."

"Friends," Benoit mused. Perhaps that was it. He had been trying for weeks now to get at her but despite countless threats, mindgames and a vicious pedigree, she wasn't even close to cracking. Frankly, he was getting frustrated. It was costing him a lot of money, too. But on the day he broke her he could finally look back, because it would all be worth it. Despite all his efforts, despite all his money he got nothing, while someone as worthless as the Kat could reduce her to tears just like that. Maybe he was going about it the wrong way. He'd known from the start she was different. If intimidation wouldn't work on her, could something as trivial as friendship? It was worth exploring. He still stood by his original goal. The girl with kaleidoscope eyes would fear him, just like all the others. Despite the fact that he paid her, she was wrong. He didn't own her. But that would come in time. It had to. She would never prove him wrong.

* * * *

Angel sat on a bench in the Radicalz locker room with tears streaming down her face. She hadn't known quite where to go when she she'd left the catering area and decided that, with at least four Radicalz casing her every move, this was probably the safest place. The last thing she wanted was more trouble for Lita and the Hardyz.

As she'd told Benoit, she really didn't know why she was crying, other than the fact that she'd been victim to a deluge of emotions she couldn't control, all of them to do with the Kat. There was grief and sadness, for the fact that Kat was gone, she hadn't gotten to say goodbye and she probably wouldn't see her again. There was resentment and jealousy because Kat had found the strength when it mattered to escape her personal hell, while it seemed Angel's was barely beginning. And there was guilt that she could even feel that way about a person who had shown her unending kindness for no other reason than that was how she was. It was all too much for Angel and when she'd started crying, she'd found herself unable to stop. 

Suddenly she heard footsteps and looked up warily. Perhaps it was Eddie. That thought made her rethink her rationalization for coming back here.

"Angel?"

"Jeff! What are you doing here?"

Jeff stepped apprehensively towards her. "I don't know. I was walking with Matt and Lita when I suddenly said, 'I'll catch up, there's something I've gotta do' and then I heard crying and I found you. Weird, huh?" He looked around and his mood darkened noticeably. "Anyway, I could ask you the same question. Isn't this the Radicalz locker room?"

Angel nodded miserably.

"Well, why are you here?" Jeff asked, puzzled. "I don't see you for days and you're hanging out with Chris Benoit now?"

"No, Jeff, no," Angel replied as the tears started falling again.

Jeff's face fell and he sat beside her, wrapping her up in his arms. "I don't understand, 'Gel," he admitted. "What's going on? How many times do you have to valet for Benoit before he'll let you be?"

Angel's whole body shook with sobs as the reality of the situation hit her. Until now she'd been deluded into thinking she could fix it, that she could get away.

"As many as he wants," she whispered.

"Oh God," Jeff breathed. "What have you done?"

"I had to do it, Jeff. I had to. I needed the last signature. Jericho wouldn't, the Rock wouldn't, Essa wouldn't. It was too late. Vince was calling security and then Benoit was there and…and he said he'd do it. I had to agree. I had to…"

"Shh," Jeff murmured, pressing a finger to her lips. "We'll work it out. It's okay. We'll think of something."

They sat in silence for a while, holding each other as Angel's breathing returned to normal.

"Did you…did you hear about the Kat, Jeff?"

He nodded. "She got away. I'm glad for her."

"I'm going to miss her," Angel admitted.

"It's better this way," Jeff told her. "She'll be much happier. She's probably dancing in some high class strip joint as we speak." 

"There are high class strip joints?" Angel asked.

Jeff shrugged. "Sure. This is America."

Angel started laughing and Jeff broke into a grin. "There's that smile. I was thinking you'd lost it."

"It's hard to find, sometimes," Angel admitted.

Jeff shook his head worriedly. "What do they do? Do they hurt you?"

Angel shook her head.

"What then? 'Cause I never see you anymore. What was the deal about?"

"I have to…" She broke off and took a deep breath. "Benoit owns me. I have to do whatever he tells me."

Jeff frowned. "He doesn't make you…?"

Angel shook her head. "No. Not that, but just about everything else. If he wants me by his side, I have to be there."

"And if you don't do what he says?"

"He'd tell Vince I backed out on the deal and I'd be kicked out."

Jeff shook his head. "The deal's between you and Benoit. Vince wouldn't care. All he was concerned with was you coming through in the deal you made with him."

Angel frowned but said nothing.

"Come with me, Angel," Jeff implored her. "Come back with me, Matt and Lita. We miss you."

"I miss you too, but I can't," Angel sighed.

"Why not? Who's going to stop you? We're willing to fight for you. I'm ready to take on all the Radicalz by myself if that's what it takes to get you back."

Angel shook her head. "It's not them stopping me. It's me."

Jeff drew back, confused. 

"I made the deal, Jeff. I can't break it."

"Of course you can."

"No, I can't," Angel insisted. "No matter how hard it is, this is the path I chose, so I have to keep going."

"But Kat left. You can too."

"No. If I leave it will be like the Kat. I'll never be able to come back."

"Why not?" Jeff asked impatiently.

Angel took a deep breath. How could she make him see? "The reason I'm still here is to fight the hypocrites, cheats, assholes and jerks. If I turn my back on the choice I made, how am I any different to any of them? If that's who I'll be, I might as well just go home."

"You are different, Angel. You're so important to me, and Matt and Lita, too. Just, come with me. You'll be okay, I swear it."

"No!" Angel cried as the tears started again. "I can't, Jeff. I have to stay. And it's so hard, it really is, because I hate him, I hate him so much."

"Okay," Jeff said. "Then how does the deal end? It's no use being trapped forever."

"He has to attack me," Angel said quietly.

"What?" Jeff cried.

"I have another plan," Angel rushed on. "I'm trying to make him let me go. I'm trying to break up the Radicalz. I have to pit myself against the other four and make him choose me. It's kind of working. They all hate me and Benoit's furious at Eddie, but…" She paused. "I don't know if I can keep doing it. Something's going to snap and I don't know if I'll be strong enough."

Jeff held her tightly and wiped away her tears. He decided to try one more time. "Then come with me. I want you back with us. Matt and Lita, they're always together now and I have no one. I can't…I just can't stop thinking about you, Angel, I really can't and…"

Angel stared at him, confused. "What do you mean, Jeff?"

Jeff stared deep in her eyes and swallowed. It was now or never. "I mean…Angel, here's what I mean." With his hands still on her face, he slowly leaned in and kissed her.

* * * *

"X-Pac again," Benoit muttered as the Radicalz walked down the hallway. "At least I won't have Eddie screwing up this time."

They reached the locker room and he opened the door, then stopped in his tracks. 

Malenko peered around him. "Oh, what's this?"

Benoit raised his hand and silence him. The Hardy boy had just started to kiss her and she was frozen. In fear? In disgust? Benoit's smirk just began to appear but then she moved her hands slowly up his back to his shoulders, where she held him tight, and it disappeared. As did his stillness. He leaped over to them and tore Jeff away with one hand, swinging the other for a punch in the face. 

"Get off her! You get the hell off her, okay?" He slammed a startled Jeff into the wall and began punching and kicking him.

Angel was also startled, by the kiss and by the sudden lack of it, but she only took one look at what was happening before she sprang into action.

"Benoit, let him go! Stop it! Leave him alone, you bastard."

She grabbed for her sticks, then leaped through the air. She landed right on Benoit's back and anchored herself by hooking her legs around his waist. He tried to shrug her off but her grip was too tight. Breathing deeply, she looped her arms over his head and, using both hands, wrenched her sticks back into his neck. Benoit coughed and immediately stepped back from Jeff, trying in vain to swat her away.

Angel just leaned back and forced the sticks more tightly into his neck. "I'm going to kill you," she hissed. "I'm going to kill you."

But she didn't have the chance. Both Saturn and Malenko grabbed her and dragged her away, causing the sticks to fall to the ground with a clatter. Suddenly free, Benoit gasped for air as Saturn and Malenko held Angel. 

"Get the stick, Terri!" Saturn shouted.

Terri grinned and picked up a stick. With Angel struggling against the two men, Terri wound up and prepared to swing, only to be grabbed by the throat and slammed against the wall.

"Let her go!" Benoit screamed, tightening his grip on Terri's neck. "Let her go or I kill the bitch."

Malenko and Saturn looked at each other. 

"Chris?" Malenko started.

"DO IT!" Benoit boomed.

Malenko and Saturn grabbed Angel's shoulders and shoved her into Jeff as Benoit lowered Terri to the ground and released her. Grabbing at her throat, she raced to Saturn's side, then the three Radicalz stared at Benoit accusingly.

"What the hell's wrong with you, Chris?" Saturn asked, holding Terri tight.

"I meant what I said," Benoit scowled. "You don't touch her." He picked up both sticks and stood over Angel. "Get up. Get up!"

Angel looked up from Jeff and glared at Benoit. "You son of a bitch. He wasn't doing anything wrong."

Benoit was unmoved. "I told you in the beginning that if anyone so much as touched you, I would make sure they were sorry. He touched you, now he's very, very sorry."

"You son of a bitch," Angel repeated before turning back to her friend. "Come on, Jeff. Let's go and get you some help."

"Where do you think you're going?" Benoit demanded.

"I'm taking him to the trainer's room."

"You don't leave this room without me."

Angel narrowed her eyes at him. "If you're coming you have to help me carry him. Otherwise you leave us the hell alone."

"Can you talk to me like that?" Benoit asked.

Angel shrugged indifferently. "You know what, asshole? Tonight I talk to you however I damn well please."

* * * *

Benoit let Angel stay with Jeff only for as long as it took to make sure he was okay. When they returned to the locker room, Eddie was there. Benoit stepped up to him.

"What the hell are you doing here? I told you to stay away."

"I know," Eddie replied quietly. "But I was wanting a chance to explain myself."

"Well, go ahead, _essa_. I'm listening."

"I know Monday night you think it was my fault. It wasn't my fault. Tonight, I promise I'll be there for you, my brother."

"Okay," Benoit replied. "Now I have something to say so you better listen." He looked down at Eddie and kicked a bag menacingly. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

Eddie slowly got to his feet. "I'm looking at you, okay, essa?"

Benoit glared at him. "I don't trust you right now, Eddie. So I don't want you anywhere near my match. Don't come near me, don't even watch my match on TV. You got me, _essa_?" he asked mockingly. "Well? You got me?"

Malenko stepped between them. "Okay, Chris. He hears you. He'll be staying back here with us."

Benoit nodded. "Good. Let's keep it that way. You," he said, turning to Angel. "It's time to go."

* * * *

X-Pac and his friend Justin Credible had arrived and Benoit had just sent Angel to his corner, when some music played over the PA system.

"Latino Heat!"

Eddie stepped onto the stage and down the ramp, his every move watched by Benoit. Eddie walked straight past Angel, not acknowledging her or her employer, and took a seat at the announce table. He began pleading his innocence as the other three Radicalz also appeared. Malenko stepped up to Eddie.

"What are you doing? Chris told you not to come out here."

"I'm here to support him, man," Eddie replied as Benoit stepped from the ring and approached him. "I'm on your side, essa."

Angel watched them as she was joined in Benoit's corner by Perry and Terri. Benoit climbed back into the ring as Eddie kept justifying himself.

"I'm a Radical, man. I'll bleed for you guys. I'll die for you, man."

Michael Cole and JR continued to ask the tough questions as Eddie gave variations on the same answer. He was a Radical. He was in for the team, forever.

Suddenly, Eddie got up. Terri distracted the ref as he climbed into the ring and shoved X-Pac into Benoit. Benoit locked on the crossface and X-Pac tapped out as Eddie exited the ring, as if he'd never been there at all. Benoit didn't release X-Pac and Justin Credible jumped on him, but Malenko and Saturn pulled him away and played slap ping-pong with him as Benoit called Angel into the ring. 

Watched by the other Radicalz, Eddie started up the ramp, looking back periodically to see if they were following. After a while they did just that and the six of them returned to the locker room. It was an uneasy truce, but it was a truce nonetheless and it meant Angel had lost much of the ground she'd made. She scowled as Benoit pulled her along by the arm. She'd just have to try that little bit harder to piss them all off.

************************************************************************ 


	21. Radicalz Attack!

Title: Radicalz Attack

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: None, except the fact that K-Kwik hosted Heat on the night stated

Summary: If you push a Radical, sooner or later it's gonna bounce back

SUNDAY NIGHT HEAT, MARCH 4TH, 2001

"I'll see you later, okay?" Angel smiled, heading for the door.

K-Kwik followed her and gripped her hand. "You are down, girl. Be sure you tune in tonight."

"You bet." Angel left him in peace to prepare for his job of hosting Heat that night.

"Would you look at that? It's everybody's favorite putacita."

Angel spun defensively. The four of them. No Benoit.

"She's not my favorite," Malenko announced.

"We been waiting for you, 'cita. Where you been, huh?" Eddie asked.

Angel ignored him and reached in her pocket for her room key.

"Hey! Eddie's talking to you!" Malenko snapped.

Angel still said nothing as she found her key and gave them the finger over her shoulder.

"Oh, that wasn't very smart," Saturn pointed out.

Suddenly, Angel's head hit the door with a sickening thud and she fell to the floor. She tried to fight back or at least take out her sticks, but there were just too many of them. She was kicked, punched, slammed, even suplexed. Her head hit the wall over and over and over. Knees hit her stomach, fists hit her eyes and there was nothing she could do but wait for it to be over as the voices drifted past her.

"You do you like being beaten, you little bitch?" Malenko.

"You think you're hardcore. I'll give you hardcore." Saturn.

"Where's your boyfriend now, huh? Where is Mr. Rabid Wolverine right when you're needing him most, huh, 'cita? Where is he?" Guerrero.

"Take that, you bitch. That's for Smackdown!" Terri.

Eventually, mercifully, she blacked out.

* * * *

"No damn doubt about it, K-Kwik's the top dog," K-Kwik murmured, locking his room. This was going to be his night – he was guest hosting Heat. Many before him had stunk the place out and he was determined it wouldn't happen to him.

"Get rowdy, get rowdy, yo…what the…?" He shrank to his haunches beside the fallen girl. "Angel girl, can you hear me? Damn it!" He leaped to his feet and pounded on the door across the hall. "Scotty! Grandmaster!"

The door opened. "K! 'Sup, G?" Grandmaster Sexay greeted him.

"You know the little white girl, man? She's lyin' on the floor. We gotta get her some help."

Grandmaster's blue eyes widened when he saw her. "Yo, Scotty. We need to get us an am-bu-lance, like yesterday, man. Yo, K. Go get you some Hollys, G. They'll get the girl to the man with the plan."

K-Kwik nodded and knocked next door. 

"What do you want, boy?" Hardcore asked menacingly.

"You're down with Angel, the stylin' white girl? Some brother don't like her so much."

"What are you talking about?" Hardcore asked, looking past him. "Angel? Holy shit. Crash, go get Molly. Angel's hurt."

They left the room and Hardcore and K-Kwik crouched by Angel.

"Scotty 2 Hotty's calling for help," K-Kwik explained.

Hardcore nodded, rolling Angel onto her side after checking she was still breathing. "Who the hell did this?"

"I got no idea, man. I was just splittin' to go do the show."

Hardcore turned to him as Molly and Crash came running. "You should go then, boy. Go do your show. We'll take care of her."

K-Kwik cocked his head. "You sure, man?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. There's too many of us here now, anyway. Crash, you go wait for the ambulance."

For once, Crash didn't argue with his cousin; he just ran off.

K-Kwik nodded. "Angel, girl. Good luck. When she comes to, tell her I'll catch her later."

"Yeah, we will," Hardcore replied. "Molly, cut your fussin'. It's not gonna help her."

Molly looked up at him, eyes wide. "Hardcore, when I catch who did this I'm gonna make them so sorry! Just wait and see."

"And I'll be right there next to you," Hardcore agreed, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of Angel's chest. "We'll teach them not to mess with the Hollys."

"Or their friends!" Molly added.

* * * *

Chris Benoit walked down the hall towards Angel's room. She had been supposed to meet him so he could make sure she ate a good dinner, but she never showed. To say he was unimpressed would be an understatement.

He slammed his fists against her door. "Little girl, you open this damn door, you hear me? Open the door!" Shaking his head furiously, he backed up, then jumped into the door, using his body as a battering ram. "Open the door!" He took a deep breath, backed up and tried again.

"You know what, mister? You break it, you bought it."

Benoit spun to track the female voice and came face to face with three blondes. 

"Hollys," he mused. "Where the hell is she?"

"Oh, like you don't know," Molly scowled.

"I don't have time for this," Benoit muttered. "Where is she? Tell me!"

"She's in the hospital, tough guy," Hardcore sneered.

"The hospital? What the hell's she doing there?"

"Maybe you can tell us," Crash replied.

Benoit shook his head as if to clear it. "Is she alive?"

"Just," Molly informed him. "No thanks to you."

"Good," Benoit smirked. "Then she can valet for me tomorrow." With that, he turned and walked back the way he'd come.

"Hey!" Molly screamed after him. "You're not very nice! You hear me?"

"Let him go, Molly," Hardcore advised. "If he comes back we'll all kick his ass."


	22. Snow Angel

Title: Snow Angel

Rating: PG-13, mostly for language

Spoilers: For the date given, including direct dialogue by Chris Benoit

Disclaimer: Of the people mentioned in this fic, I only own Angel. All others are owned by Vince McMahon and the WWE.

Summary: Broken in body but not in spirit, Angel just has one thing keeping her plan together - Chris Benoit's word. 

RAW IS WAR, MARCH 5TH, 2001

Angel slowly drifted out of a drug-induced slumber, feeling peaceful and relaxed. She twitched her eyes around, inhaled and decided she was in hospital, though why she didn't know. Her memory returned a few seconds later, as did the pain. It was so intense and coming from all over, that she cried out. A nurse came running

"Drugs!" Angel screamed. "I need some drugs!"

Another nurse arrived and checked the chart as the first nurse ordered up an IV bag. She started the drip and Angel slowly drifted back to sleep.

The next time she woke up she just managed to restrain herself and was given some pills for the pain. If she felt this bad she didn't even want to imagine what she looked like. She just wanted to lie there and cry…until Benoit showed up. Somehow, from deep inside, she pulled out her tough façade and formed her scowl.

"You look awful," Benoit told her without an ounce of sympathy.

"No kidding, genius. I got the crap beaten out of me."

Benoit was unaffected. "Get up. We have a plane to catch."

"Piss off. I'm staying right here."

"I checked you out. You can't stay."

"You can't do that. You're not a doctor."

"Princess, I can do whatever I damn well please. Now, get up."

Angel glared at him. "I hate you."

Benoit smirked. "I wouldn't have it any other way. I brought you some clothes. Put them on." He dumped a bag on her and turned his back.

"Can you leave?"

"No."

Angel sighed. "Fine." Despite the painkillers, it took her several minutes to dress. "Did you touch my underwear?"

"No. Terri got it. She packed your bag, too."

"Terri," Angel repeated bitterly, pulling a hooded sweatshirt over her head. It didn't belong to her and had the Radicalz logo emblazoned on it, but it was warm. "Why the sweatshirt?"

"You want people to see you looking like that?" Benoit challenged, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pair of sunglasses. "Here. Put these on, too."

Angel took them from him. "Okay, I'm ready."

Benoit nodded. "I won't hold your arm today. Don't make me change my mind."

Angel took a deep breath and clambered slowly from the bed. She followed Benoit silently from the room, aching with every movement.

"Wait," she called out suddenly. "I need drugs."

Benoit spun and held up a bottle of tablets. Angel reached for them but Benoit pulled them away from her. "I'll keep these. And once they're done, there's no more. Drugs are dangerous for wrestlers – painkillers, steroids, recreationals. They've destroyed careers, destroyed people. You have to know when to stop taking them."

Angel glared at him. "Thanks for the public service announcement."

Benoit didn't crack a smile. "You're welcome. Now, come on. We've already missed the first plane. Don't make us miss the other one."

Angel frowned. "I have to get the plane with just you?"

"That's what I said."

"Perfect," Angel sighed. "Just perfect."

* * * *

Benoit sat in silence, as if meditating. Angel had been watching him for some time and she was beginning to wonder if he was one of those people who could sleep with their eyes open. She resented the fact he wasn't talking. Like Blackman, he never said much, but even Benoit's company was better than nothing. 

"Did they say what was wrong with me?" she asked finally.

Benoit raised his eyebrows and stared at her out of the corner of his eye. 

"At the hospital," Angel continued. "Did they tell you about my injuries?"

Benoit nodded slowly. "Three cracked ribs and a total of twenty-four stitches."

"That's it?"

"Bumps, bruises, minor lacerations. You're lucky."

"Maybe you think so," Angel muttered under her breath. She looked at him again. "Why haven't you asked me who attacked me?"

"Because I already know," Benoit replied simply.

"You do?"

"I'm not stupid."

Angel frowned at him. That remained to be seen. "What do you intend doing about it?"

"I'll do what I have to do."

Angel's frown became a glare. "You promised me."

"I'll do what I have to do," Benoit replied, this time more forcefully.

Angel sighed and sat back in her chair. "Can I have my pills now?"

"No."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because it hasn't been four hours yet," Benoit explained.

"Really? I guess being around you just made it seem like it. My mistake."

Benoit turned his head slightly and smirked at her as she reached forward and picked up the in-flight magazine. Maybe she'd been wrong before. Anything had to be better than talking to Benoit.

* * * *

Angel and Benoit walked through the backstage hallways of the MCI Center. They were so late they hadn't even had time to check into the hotel. All of their luggage other than Benoit's wrestling gear was in the rental car. He didn't even know whether or not he had a match.

Still wearing the sweatshirt and sunglasses, Angel went unnoticed by most people, so it came as a surprise when Al Snow raced right over to her. Because of his campaigning, she's hardly seen him since she'd started being Benoit's valet and she hadn't been able to explain it to him. She didn't know what he thought about the whole situation.

"Angel! Angel! I've got a big night and Head is causing me some worries. Would you be able to…"

"Look after Head?" Angel guessed.

Al broke into his smile. "Could you?"

"Sure."

Al handed it to her. "Thanks. I'll see you after to get Head from you again."

"Okay, Al. Bye."

Al raced down the hallway and Benoit turned and stared at Angel. 

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked disdainfully.

Angel shrugged, unaffected. "You're not the only one I have a deal with."

Benoit accepted that and continued walking.

"Angel? Is that you?"

Angel peered through her sunglasses as Matt and Jeff and noticed them eyeing the Radicalz sweatshirt warily.

"Yes, it's her," Benoit answered impatiently. "She's a Radical now. It's a good look for her."

Matt started to argue but Jeff stopped him. "She has to do it. It's part of the deal."

Matt nodded slowly and looked back at Benoit. "We want her to be our valet tonight. We have a title match."

"You should ask her," Benoit advised.

"Angel?" Jeff asked. 

"Yeah, guys, of course I'll do it. Anything to get me away from this jerk for a while."

Jeff broke into a smile. There was the Angel he'd fallen for. "Great. We'll see you, then."

"Bye." Angel sighed, knowing how uncomfortable that had been for her friends. If only Benoit wasn't constantly by her side, her life would be a whole lot easier.

* * * *

"Hey, look here, guys. It's Chris and his little 'cita."

Angel stared at Eddie warily as he continued. "We heard what happened to you, 'cita. We were so sad to hear it. Our Radicalz sister, attacked for no reason. Can you imagine how we were feeling?"

"My heart bleeds for you," Angel muttered, rolling her eyes.

"I don't know who did it," Eddie told her. "But if I find out, let me tell you, they'll be wishing they never messed with the Radicalz."

Angel still stared at him. "I may have hit my head, but I do remember what happened."

"You do? 'Cita, who was it? I'll go beat them right this minute."

Angel shook her head and didn't reply. Instead, she looked expectantly over at Benoit. 

"Eddie, do you have something to say to her?"

Eddie frowned. "Maybe you can give me a little hint, huh, essa?"

Benoit blinked a few times. "I think you owe her and apology."

Eddie was taken aback. "Why, essa? The mamacita, she's our sister. We love her, man. She's a Radical."

"Eddie," Benoit started.

"Okay," Eddie relented. "'Cita, I'm sorry you hurt yourself."

"See?" Benoit asked. "Eddie's sorry."

"That wasn't an apology," Angel scowled. "That wasn't what you promised me."

Benoit glared at her. "My promise was to make sure he was sorry. He's sorry. He said so."

"He's not sorry," Angel snapped, walking into the corner of the room. "He doesn't even care."

"Not care? Of course I care, 'cita. Maybe we could do something nice for her, huh, guys? To show we care. I know. Let's give her a little makeover. Terri, you got your makeup?"

"Of course I do."

"That's great. 'Cita, how you want us to make you, huh?"  
"Screw you," Angel spat, hugging Head to her chest as if it was a security blanket.

"What you got there, 'cita?" Eddie asked, unfazed. "Look guys, it's Al Snow's Head."

"Get away from me," Angel warned as Eddie approached her. 

"That's okay, 'cita. We don't wanna take your little doll away. We just gonna give you a little makeover 'cause that's what friends do and we're all friends now, right?" He broke into an evil smile. "Hey guys, I know what we can do her makeup. Grab her!"

Malenko and Saturn held a struggling Angel as Eddie called Terri over. "Terri, can you get my black shirt from my bag? I think the little mamacita would like to wear it."

"Let me go!" Angel shrieked. "Let me go!"

"Shut up!" Saturn snapped.

"Here Eddie," Terri said, handing him the shirt. 

"Okay, now do her makeup all nice, so you can't see she's hurt, okay?"

Terri nodded. "Honey, if you don't stop moving it'll go all over your face. Just relax. I'm not going to hurt you."

Angel glared at her but decided to strop struggling. There wasn't much point keeping it up – they weren't going to let her go.

"You have beautiful eyes," Terri told her, working carefully. "And don't worry about your swollen lips. They just look like you've had collagen injections and that can't be a bad thing, can it?"

A little later, she was done.

"There," Terri said with a smile. "You can't even see the bruises."

"Perfect, babe," Saturn agreed. 

"Take the sweatshirt off," Eddie ordered.

"No!" Angel yelped, struggling again, but she couldn't really stop them as they removed her sweatshirt and replaced it with Eddie's black T-shirt.

"You guys like it, huh?" Eddie asked. 

On the T-shirt, in correction fluid, Eddie had written the slogan 'Vote For Me, Get Head Free.'

"There's still something missing," Eddie mused. "Does anyone have a magic marker?"

"I have a permanent marker," Terri offered, pulling it from her makeup case and handing it to him.

"Even better," Eddie grinned. "'Cita, you're gonna wanna hold still for this part."

Angel was till struggling against Saturn and Malenko. "Why aren't you helping me?" she shrieked, glaring at the motionless Benoit.

He just stared back at her. "If you move, they'll break your neck."

Angel stopped still. She was wasting her energy. They wouldn't let her go so she might as well let them finish.

"There," Eddie smiled, admiring his work. He took a mirror from Terri's makeup case and held it up so everyone else could see the words on Angel's forehead.

"Eddie, you dolt," Malenko mumbled. "The head says 'Help Me' not 'Kill Me'."

"It does?" Eddie shrugged. "Oh well, I never was so smart at spelling. You like your makeover, 'cita? You're lookin' pretty good if I do say so myself. You can let her go now so she can take a good look."

Angel finally shrugged off Saturn and Malenko. She clutched Head tightly, clenching her jaw and her fists. She resolved herself not to cry and was just succeeding. This was how she'd expected things to be all along, it had just taken a while to happen. Benoit had tricked her. He was right; all he'd promised was that Eddie would be sorry. Eddie had said he was sorry so that was that. There was nothing she could do about it, except hope with all her heart that the worst was over, even if she didn't believe it was. Next time they could kill her. That thought didn't distress her as much as she'd expected. With the pain she was feeling, death would be quite a release.

As if hearing her thoughts, Benoit stepped over to her with a bottle of water in one hand. "It's time to take your pills if you need them."

Angel simply nodded and took them from him. She swallowed them quickly, then eyed Benoit accusingly. 

"Why didn't you stop them? Why didn't you make them sorry?"

Benoit stared back, unapologetically. "I said I'd do what I had to do," he replied simply. 

"You bastard."

"Just shut up," Benoit scowled. "They've accepted you. You're a Radical now."

"Never," Angel spat.

"It's an honor. Be grateful." With that, he turned and rejoined his friends.

* * * *

"Come on, little girl. We're going to support Eddie."

Angel scowled and got to her feet.

Earlier, a messenger arrived to tell them that Vince had given the Radicalz an Intercontinental Title shot. It was up to them to decide who got it. After some infighting, Benoit managed to convince everyone that Eddie deserved it the most. 

"You have proven to all of us this last week where your alliances lie," he explained.

Eddie thanked him and started to prepare.

Angel followed Benoit from the room and they made their entrance. They kept walking around the ring and Benoit stopped for a moment in front of a seated security guard.

"Give me that chair."

The guy did as he was told and Benoit took the chair with him to the announce desk, where he opened it.

"Sit here," he ordered Angel as he took his own seat next to Paul Heyman, the new announcer. Angel sat, gripping Head tightly.

Benoit put on his headset and wrung his hands enigmatically, giving Heyman and JR a dark look.

Angel formed a glare of her own as Chris Jericho entered. She still blamed him for her situation, especially for her current mess – injured badly and dressed to mock her coach, a man she adored. Jericho was followed by Guerrero and Angel could now not keep the glare off her face. Jericho versus Guerrero. She was glad Benoit just expected her to sit because she really didn't know who she'd cheer for. 

As the fight began, JR and Heyman asked Benoit question after question and he refused to answer, keeping both intense blue eyes on the action. Finally, JR told him that his microphone was on and he could say whatever he wanted, to which he replied expressionlessly, "I know" and fell silent again.

The match continued and Benoit maintained his silence and rubbed his hands together slowly, never taking his eyes away from Jericho – a man he abhorred, a man he'd been feuding with since he'd first appeared in the WWF. 

In the ring, Jericho lifted Guerrero for a body drop, causing him to fly into the ref and knock him down. Eddie later performed a failed frogsplash and both men were down. Benoit chose that moment to remove his headset and climb the ropes to the top turnbuckle.

"He's going for Jericho!" Heyman cried as Benoit sailed though the air in the flying headbutt. But he didn't go for Jericho, landing instead on his fallen 'teammate'. Just as quickly as he'd entered, Benoit rolled from the ring.

"Come on," he ordered Angel, grabbing her roughly and pulling her to her feet. They headed for the ramp as Jericho made the cover and the revived referee made the three count.

"Okay, stop."

Benoit turned back to the ring and gave everyone his trademark smirk, as Angel stood dumbfounded by his side. Jericho was equally stunned, giving Benoit a confused look as he picked up his belt. Still smirking, Benoit backed up the ramp, until he was stopped by the other Radicalz. Angel was no coward, but her injuries had her in great pan again, so she stood close to Benoit and let him sort it out.

Malenko shoved him. "What the hell was that? You're wrecking his title shot? You're headbutting your friend?"

Benoit pointed at Eddie and continued to back up the ramp. "I told him not to touch her, dammit. I told him! You didn't think I'd let you get away with it, did you? Enjoy your headache, _essa_." With that, he again broke into his smirk and pulled Angel alone as the other Radicalz got into the ring to check on Eddie.

In the hallway, they ran into Al Snow. He glared at Angel.

"You think that's funny? It's not funny. It's not funny at all. So few people here take me seriously and I really thought you were different. I mean, Head loves you. I thought you loved Head."

"I do!" Angel protested.

"Little girl, we don't have time." Benoit reached and snatched Head away, then tossed it towards Al. "Head's up."

"Hey!" Al cried, clutching Head. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Did he poke you in the eye?"

Benoit just chuckled and led Angel away.

* * * *

"Chris, open the damn door!"  
"I mean it, essa, you let me in so I can beat the crap outta you."

"Come on, Chris. Let us in!"

"Chris, please! My makeup's in there!"

Benoit laughed quietly but didn't reply.

"Open the door! It's our room too!"

"You son of a bitch! Open it!"

Angel looked over at Benoit. "How long are we staying in here?"  
"As long as it takes."

Angel nodded as the yelling from outside continued. "They're gonna be pissed at you."

"I know."

"You don't care?"

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "Just shut up and see if they start begging."

"Can I watch the TV?"

Benoit shrugged so she took it as a yes.

* * * *

"Dammit, dammit, dammit!" Angel cried. Lita had just lost her women's title match, due in large part to a mistake by Jeff.

"You don't look like cousins," Benoit said quietly.

Angel shrugged. "Cousins don't have to look alike."

Benoit nodded. "Only if they're Hollys."

Angel frowned at him. "Why is it that I can sometimes talk to you like a normal person, but other times you're a total jackass?"

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "Little girl, I could ask you the same question."

Angel blinked. He had her there. "Okay, so why don't you ever call me by name? My name's Angel, you know."

"You never call me by my first name," Benoit shrugged.

"That's true, but Benoit's still your name. You don't even call me Torres."

"You'd rather I call you bitch, slut or whore like I do with Terri?"

Angel smiled meekly. "Point taken."

They were silent and Angel realized the noise from outside had stopped.

"Can I go now?" she asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

"They're probably still there, thinking they can fool us into believing they've gone so they can ambush us."

"When can I go?"

Benoit shrugged. "I don't know."

"I have a match to valet," Angel warned.

"You'll probably miss it."

"What? It's Matt and Jeff. They're my friends."

Benoit glowered at her. "I lost all my friends tonight and you're upset about missing one stupid match they're not going to win anyway?"

Angel blinked and found she didn't have an answer so she turned back to the TV.

"You're not worth it," Benoit sighed.

"Excuse me?" Angel demanded, spinning to face him.

"I lost everything tonight," Benoit murmured. "My team, my friends, my brothers, everything. All because of you. I just want you to know you're not worth it."

Angel held his gaze. "Then why do it?"

"I gave you my word," Benoit replied simply. "I did what I had to do."

Angel stared at him. "So why didn't you stop them before? Al Snow might never speak to me again. Why did you let them do that?"

Benoit shrugged. "Because they weren't hurting you." He broke into his smirk. "And because I liked watching you squirm."

Angel glared at him. "I really don't like you."

"Princess, I don't like you either."

Angel's eyes widened. "So, why am I here? Why did you want me?"

Benoit smirked. "You'll find out eventually."

Angel scowled. "Asshole."

Benoit started chuckling to himself. "Your match is on."

Angel turned to the TV. He was right. There were Matt and Jeff.

* * * *

"Stay here. I'll check us both in."

Angel shrugged and stepped back. It was so late she was surprised someone was at the reception desk at all.

Benoit walked straight up to the desk and gave the receptionist his most threatening of looks. "I need a room."

The receptionist looked up from his computer. "Do you have a reservation?"

"No."

"Then, at this hour of night, I can't help you."

Angel stepped up next to Benoit, a frown on her face. "I'm pretty sure I have a booking."

Benoit turned to her. "I told you to wait back there."

"But I have my own room. It's booked…"

"No, it's not. This is a different hotel."

"What?" Angel cried. 

"We can't stay there. You're not safe."

"I'm not safe? I'm not safe? You listen to me, mister…"

Benoit shut her out, turning back to the receptionist. "We need a suite. Two bedrooms."

The receptionist wavered under his gaze. "I'm sorry. If you come back tomorrow…"

"Maybe you didn't hear me," Benoit replied coolly. "I want a room. Now."

"I'll see what I can do," the receptionist murmured, typing on the keyboard.

"What the hell do you mean I'm not safe?" Angel demanded.

Benoit stared at her. "You want a repeat of yesterday?"

"No, but…"

"Then shut up and let me handle it."

Angel took a deep breath. She was tired and sore and just wanted some sleep.

"It looks like we can help you," the receptionist said nervously. "Two bedroom suite?"

Benoit nodded slowly and handed him his credit card.

The receptionist ran it through the computer and collected the key. "I hope you enjoy your stay. If there's anything you need at all, anything, just call the desk and we'll put someone on it."

Benoit nodded and took the key, turning roughly to Angel. She frowned at him, then gave the receptionist an apologetic smile.

"He meant to say thank you. He's incredibly rude."

The receptionist smiled gratefully as Benoit grabbed her arm. "Cut your flirting. It's been a long day. Let's get some sleep."

Angel stared at him and nodded. Sleep. Finally, they agreed on something.

*******************************************************************************************

A/N: I've decided to end postings with the best cliffhanger spot, whereas before I left it after three chapters. 


	23. Protection

Title: Protection

Rating: PG-13 for some language, violence and mild sexual content

Spoilers: For the date given, although the APA stuff never happened

Disclaimer: I do not own any wrestlers, announcers or Smackdown. They are owned by World Wrestling Entertainment

Summary: A new living arrangement has a lot of people confused…

SMACKDOWN, MARCH 8TH, 2001

Angel slowly edged through the room, eyes focused on Benoit. He was still sleeping, mouth open, breathing loudly. She wanted to keep it that way. If he caught her trying to leave she was in big trouble. Finally, she reached the door and eased the handle around. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the door inwards. It squeaked and she released it, turning warily back to Benoit. He slept on and Angel let out a sigh of relief. 

'Calm down, girl,' she thought. 'Just step through the door, close it and go.'

One step…two…three. She was out. She turned back and slowly closed the door. It clicked shut. She was out and Benoit wasn't with her. She was so happy she almost skipped on her way to the elevator. 

On Tuesday she'd convinced Benoit to change hotels to the one where everyone else was staying. He'd refused at first and she would have just left him and checked herself in, except for the fact that she had no idea where it was. Finally, Benoit had relented, but only because the gym facilities at their hotel were inadequate and even only then because Angel had agreed to the same living arrangements. A two bedroom suite. Angel hadn't been happy, of course, but she'd had a choice. A two bedroom suite with Benoit in a hotel where all her friends were staying, or a two bedroom suite with Benoit in an unknown hotel. There really wasn't much of a choice. At least now she was in the same hotel as Lita, Matt, Jeff, Molly and the others, although she hadn't actually seen any of them, and the only proof she'd had that they were in the right hotel at all was witnessing the Dudley Boyz and Kaientai getting into a food fight in the hotel restaurant. Speaking of the Dudley Boyz, despite what Benoit had predicted, Matt and Jeff had won their title match. Angel was delighted for them, but sad she hadn't been there for them. She wanted to be the first (after Lita, of course) to congratulate them. In fact, that was where she was going. She'd done a little detective work in her couple of seconds away from Benoit and had discovered that two adjoining rooms on the fifth floor had been booked under the name Hardy. She didn't know which was which but she was just moments away from finding out.

She knocked brusquely. No answer. She knocked again. Still no answer. She tried once more.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming."

Despite its anger, the voice filled Angel with a warm glow. Jeff. She missed him so much. 

The door opened and Jeff stood there, shirtless and angry. "Angel," he said, surprised.

"Hi Jeff," Angel smiled.

"Yeah, hi," Jeff replied suspiciously. He leaned forward and looked carefully up and down the hall. "Where is he? Where's Benoit?"

Angel sighed. "He's sleeping."

"Are you sure? Do robots need sleep?"

"Jeff, don't be ridiculous. Can I come in?"

Jeff shrugged but stepped backwards. As soon as Angel entered the room, he jumped past her and locked the door.

Angel walked around the room, her every move watched by Jeff. She stepped in front of the bedside table, where the tag title belt lay. Angel gently picked it up and examined its shiny surface. She looked up at Jeff with a proud smile.

"So, it's yours again? It's awesome, Jeff."

Jeff nodded slowly, approaching her. He reached out and took the belt from her. "Yeah, it is."

"Can I see it?" Angel asked gently.

Jeff kept nodding and held it up for her, keeping it just out of reach.

"What's wrong, Jeff?" Angel frowned.

Jeff shook his head. "Nothing," he replied, reaching around her to put the belt back down.

Angel grabbed his wrist. "Jeff, I know there's something wrong. I can see it in your eyes."

Jeff sighed. "You're sharing a room with Chris Benoit."

Angel nodded as if she'd known he would say that. "It's a suite. I have my own room. And we have to. The Radicalz want to kill both of us. We're safer together."

"You'd be safe with me."

Angel shook her head sadly. "No, Jeff."

Jeff sank down onto his bed. "Why Benoit, Angel?"

"Because I had to."

"You keep saying that. I just want to know something. Is it 'cause you have to, or 'cause you want to?"  
Angel shook her head. "No, Jeff."

"I'm trying so hard to understand, but either it's the most complicated deal in human history, or you're trying to fool me."

"Jeff, I just…you have to believe me. Benoit…he makes me go everywhere with him. If I want to go to the bathroom he waits outside until I'm done. I can't get away. Even this morning I had to sneak out while he was sleeping."

"Why do you stay? Why don't you just leave?"

"I can't."

"You can!"  
"No, Jeff. It's bigger now. Even if…even if I could get around the deal, I have to stay."

"Why, Angel?"

Angel blinked behind her sunglasses. "Because I'm scared," she murmured.

Jeff stared up at her curiously. "Of Benoit?"

Angel shook her head. "No."

Jeff frowned. "I could protect you. Me, Matt and Lita."

"No, Jeff. You and Matt have the titles to think about. Benoit and I have common enemies now."

"What?" Jeff cried. "I don't even believe you just said that. You've changed, Angel. I didn't want to believe it, but you have."

Angel shook her head. "No, Jeff."

Jeff scrunched his face up. "Just…just stop saying 'no, Jeff'. You have changed. I mean, talking about being on the same page as Benoit?"

"No," Angel whispered. "I hate him. But I do know he can keep me from being hurt."

"You trust him?"

"I…" Angel paused. "I have to."

Jeff shook his head, aghast.

"Jeff, no, Jeff," Angel whispered.

Jeff still shook his head violently. "Two weeks ago you were a completely different person. You were crazy, you were fun, you were…well, as close to perfect as I can think of right now. You were my best friend. But now, Angel. Now you walk around wearing that…that outfit. That Radicalz sweatshirt and shades. And you have your head down and you never smile, dressed all in black like some…some hooded druid from the dark side. And you're trusting Benoit now?"

Angel took a deep breath. "There's a reason for everything. If I've changed, it's not through choice. I trust Benoit because I have to, not because I want to and, as for the clothes and the fact I haven't been my usual cheerful self lately? You want to know why, Jeff? I'll show you why. But you have to sit right there and not say a thing until I'm done."

Jeff nodded slowly. "I want to trust you."

"Okay," Angel whispered. "Here's why, Jeff." She slowly reached up and lowered the hood of her sweatshirt. Keeping her eyes on Jeff, she raised her hands and took off her sunglasses, throwing them onto the bed next to Jeff.

"Oh my God," Jeff gasped, taking in her blackened eyes, bruised face, swollen lips and various cuts – both stitched and unstitched.

Angel stared at him expressionlessly. "I'm not done, yet."

Next, she crossed her arms and pulled her sweatshirt off, revealing a deep gash on her left upper arm, just peering out from under her T-shirt. Taking a deep breath, she kicked off her shoes, then moved her fingers to her fly. 

Jeff watched, transfixed with horror and sympathy as her pants fell to the ground. More bruises and cuts and a somewhat swollen left knee.

"Oh, Angel," Jeff breathed, shaking his head sadly.

Angel took another deep breath and blinked back tears as she crossed her arms again. Slowly, carefully, she pulled her T-shirt up and over her head, dropping it on the ground, leaving her in just her underwear. It was all there – a severely swollen right shoulder, the continuance of the gash on her left arm, her broken ribs, re-taped only the night before. 

"This is why, Jeff," she finished quietly. "This is why."

Jeff couldn't even begin to find the words. "W-when?"

"Sunday," Angel replied flatly.

"Sunday," Jeff repeated, his own voice filled with emotion. "And you still look like that."

"Yeah."

"Who did this, Angel?" Jeff asked urgently. "Who did that to you?"

"The Radicalz. Not Benoit. The other four. Eddie…" She trailed off.

Jeff shook his head slowly and got to his feet in front of her. "Why didn't you tell me before?" he whispered, tilting his forehead towards her shoulder so she could no longer see his eyes.

"I don't know," Angel replied as Jeff slowly slid his hands up her back, his touch feather-light. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry," Jeff echoed as Angel wrapped her arms around him. "I should have been there to protect you."

"It's okay. You couldn't have changed things."

"You are so beautiful," Jeff murmured, pressing his lips gently to her shoulder. "How could they do this to you?"

"I don't know," Angel replied sadly, making circles on Jeff's back with her hands. "I don't know."

Jeff's fingers traced the outline of her body and came to rest under her chin. "Angel," he breathed, looking right into her eyes at last. "I would never hurt you."

"I know, Jeff," Angel replied quietly, closing her eyes as Jeff leaned in and softly pressed his lips against hers. A few seconds later, he pulled away and her eyelids fluttered open as she broke into a slight smile.

Jeff blinked languidly, stroking her cheek with his thumb, tracing the outline of her bruises. "I want you," he whispered, his words barely audible.

Angel still smiled as she closed her eyes again, tightening her grip on Jeff's shoulders as he bent his head towards hers. His lips brushed over hers gently, then once again, as if he was afraid he'd hurt her if he kissed her how he really wanted to. With every touch, Angel responded, until she finally wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, sending Jeff stumbling backwards onto the bed, his arms still enclosing Angel. Jeff finally broke away from the kiss, then trailed his lips along her skin, stopping them carefully on all of her cuts and bruises, as if kissing them would make them disappear. Angel sighed happily and clutched his shoulder with one hand, burying the other in his hair. It amazed her that someone so strong, so tough, with such an incredible body could be so gentle with her. She couldn't deny how much it was turning her on, despite the misery and uncertainty of the past two weeks. It didn't matter who wanted her gone, who wanted her dead, who she could or couldn't trust. Right now there was only Jeff and she needed him, at least as much as he wanted her. Angel pressed her hands to the sides of his face, guided his head towards hers and kissed him deeply, longingly. It hurt her lips but she didn't care, she just wanted more. Not breaking the kiss, she trailed a single hand up his chest, touching exploring. He was no longer Jeff – the sometimes goofy risk-taker with the sweet, sensitive side. Now he was all those things and more. He was incredibly sexy and she wanted him, she needed him.

"Jeff," she murmured against his mouth. Their cheeks touched briefly and shared so much heat they practically ignited.

Jeff pulled her even closer, if that was possible, and she cried out a little. 'I have to not hurt her,' he kept telling himself. 'I have to not hurt her.'

But she kept kissing him like that and he was having trouble thinking at all, let alone restraining his actions. He wanted her so badly and finally, finally she wanted him, too. She was in her underwear, he was naked above the waist. They really didn't have far to go. He knew this could ruin their friendship, but this was where he'd been heading all along. It was up to her. Hardly believing he could find the strength, he pulled away from her and looked down, right into her eyes. Angel immediately grabbed at his face and pulled him down again. Jeff smiled as he reclaimed her mouth. It was on.

Neither of them heard the door being unlocked and opened, but they sure heard the voice.

"Hey, little brother. You ready to…"

The room erupted into a stunned silence. Angel reacted by pushing Jeff away and reaching for his blankets, covering herself urgently. Jeff sat back next to her, throwing his hands onto his head. Matt stood frozen, the door and his mouth both open.

"Good morning, Matt," Jeff said coolly.

"I..." Matt started, before stopping to try again. "Oh my God, I am so sorry. I had no idea. You…um, I'll leave and you get back to…" He signaled with his hand. "Whatever it was you were doing." He turned to leave.

"That's okay," Angel called, but he was already gone. She turned to Jeff, who shrugged.

"Thanks, Matt," he muttered, before breaking into a little smile.

"It's not his fault. He didn't know," Angel replied. "How'd he get in here, anyway? I thought you locked the door."

"He has a key. I have his and Lita's. Added protection," he explained. "In more ways than one. He usually comes in to wake me up. I'm not a morning person."

Angel smiled at him. "I should go, anyway. If Benoit wakes up before I get back I'm in deep shit."

"Screw Benoit," Jeff scowled.

"No thanks," Angel scowled, climbing out of the bed and starting to dress. "I usually prefer humans."

Jeff grinned and handed her the sweatshirt. "I really don't like this one," he announced.

"Only for a few more days, hopefully," Angel replied, pulling it over her head and putting her hood up.

Jeff nodded and spread his arms. Angel stepped up to him and hugged him tightly.

"Take care of yourself, Angel."

Angel nodded, breaking away from him to pick up her sunglasses. "I'll see you later."

Jeff nodded, then thought of something. "Eddie Guerrero?" he asked.

Angel nodded. "He's the ringleader. But don't do anything crazy, okay?"

Jeff formed his sick little smile. "See you soon, Angel."

* * * *

Jeff let himself into Matt and Lita's room, where Matt was doing pushups while Lita sat on his back. They looked up at his entrance.

"I want my key back," Jeff answered.

"You're done already?" Matt cried. "You're not a Hardy. You can't be."

"And you're not funny," Jeff replied.

"Did she leave because of me?" Matt asked.

"Only 80%. She had to get back before Benoit noticed she was gone."

"I can't believe you actually got it together," Matt mused. "Especially with the Benoit thing."

Jeff shrugged. "Neither can I. But apparently she's got bigger problems than Benoit."

"Really? What, Jeff?" Lita cried, nervously.

"Well," Jeff started. "Have you ever wondered why she wears the sweatshirt and shades?"

* * * *

Angel finally reached her door. She'd had plenty of time to think and had come to the conclusion that Matt showing up was a good thing. Did she really want to be starting things with Jeff when her life was already complicated enough? She'd seen how protective Matt was with Lita since they'd 'come out'. If Jeff was anything like his brother it'd cause quite a tug-of-war with Benoit who, bizarrely, Angel now needed around. Benoit was the only person who knew how Guerrero, Malenko and Saturn thought. He knew their moves, their strengths, and their weaknesses. Like it or not, sticking with Benoit was the safest option. Even so, she couldn't fool herself. She was definitely attracted to Jeff and realized now she probably always had been. A week ago, when he'd kissed her, it had been different. Despite what he'd been telling her, there'd been no pressure, no need to make a choice. Today was a totally different story. She unlocked and opened the door, still unresolved about her decision.

Benoit stood right in front of her. "Lock the door," he ordered, his cold stare drilling right through her. She did as she was told and turned back expectantly.

"Where were you?" he demanded. "Tell me! Where have you been?"

"I was with Jeff," Angel replied evenly.

Benoit raised his eyebrows and started pacing. "With Jeff," he repeated, before stopping to glare at her. "_With_ Jeff?"

Angel ripped off her shades and scowled. "Not that it's any of your business, but yes. I was _with_ Jeff."

"You told me you weren't a couple," Benoit said accusingly.

"When I said that, three weeks ago, we weren't."

"And now?"

Exasperated, Angel stepped right past him towards her own room. She stopped in the doorway and spun back around. "I don't know what we are, okay? And it really doesn't concern you."

"Are you in love with him?" Benoit asked mockingly.

Angel fixed her gaze. "If I said I was, would you end our deal and let me go?"

"No," Benoit replied emphatically.

"Then it really doesn't matter, does it?" Angel spat, stepping into her room and slamming the door.

* * * *

Lita and the Hardyz walked through the lobby, ready to leave for the MCI Center. Up ahead, Jeff spotted another group and broke into a sprint.

"Guerrero!" he screamed, leaping onto him. "You son of a bitch."

"Hardy boy. I don't know what you thinking, essa, but it's not very smart."

It took Saturn, Malenko, Terri, Matt and Lita to separate the two of them.

"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch!" Jeff shouted as Matt and Lita dragged him away. "I'm going to kill all of them."

"I'd like to see you try it, essa," Eddie mocked him.

The two groups stared each other off, neither wanting to be the first to turn and leave.

Eddie spat out a mouthful of incomprehensible Spanish as Jeff continued his tirade.

"You stay away from her, or I swear to God…"

"Hey look, guys, it's another one for the putacita. I wonder if there's some machine making Chris Benoit clones, huh? Now that's a scary thought."

Malenko leered over at Lita. "Hello, Lita."

"Hi Dean," Lita replied sarcastically.

"Long time no see. I must say, you're looking incredibly sexy today."

"Okay, that's enough," Matt snapped and Lita now had two Hardys to restrain.

"Think about the belts, guys," Lita soothed them. "The Dudleyz have their rematch tonight and who knows what Edge and Christian are going to try? You have to keep your titles."

"Yeah, essas," Eddie said antagonistically. "Listen to the mamacita. You gotta think about your titles."

"Let's go," Lita suggested.

"Yeah," Matt growled, putting a protective arm around her. "Let's get the hell out of here."

Jeff nodded and followed them, keeping eye contact with Eddie until the last possible moment.

* * * *

Side by side, Angel and Benoit walked the halls of the MCI Center. Benoit was focused and kept his face forward, while Angel turned at every sound. Suddenly she heard a voice so distinctive she placed it immediately, despite only having heard it a few times. She turned to Benoit.

"I need my money up front tonight."

Benoit turned and stopped, giving her a disdainful look as he reached for his wallet. "There."

Angel counted the notes. "Where's the rest?"  
"What rest?" Benoit asked gruffly.

"Three matches, Benoit. Not one, three. I know wrestlers aren't too good at counting, but…"

Benoit gave her a deadly glare. "You expect me to pay for Eddie and Dean when it's your fault I'm no longer a part of that team?"

Angel was unmoved. "Yes, I do. That was our deal. Three matches per show."

"I pay for the hotel room. I pay for meals."

"Also in our deal," Angel shrugged. "When I'm with you, everything's taken care of. That's what you said."

"I know what I said!" Benoit shouted, causing a trainee ref to go scurrying in another direction.

"Then hand it over," Angel persisted.

Scowling, Benoit reached into his wallet again. He handed her twenty dollars. "You'll get the rest later."

Angel looked at him skeptically.

"That's all I have," Benoit muttered through clenched teeth.

Angel nodded slowly and pocketed the money.

"Now, come on. I have to get ready to fight _your_ battle."

His sarcasm didn't go unnoticed, but Angel just smiled. "I'll be right there. Ten minutes."

"What?"

"Don't worry. I'll be back in plenty of time for your match, if you get one. I'm your valet, not your conjoined twin."

With that, she strode up the hall, leaving Benoit to watch her, a terrifying look on his face. He reached the locker room and violently jerked the door open. General purpose locker rooms. Was there anything worse in life? He surveyed the not-so-inspiring group that shared the room, most of whom weren't even close to having a match. But they were always there and ready for the off chance that they might trip and fall on someone's cast-off talent. He picked up a chair and slammed it into a wall, following it with a table. He stopped and smirked as the other so-called wrestlers evacuated the room, leaving him alone. What was once communal could so easily become private. Benoit smiled to himself and unzipped his gym bag.

* * * *

Angel knocked on the door.

"Come in!" called a voice with a distinctive southern drawl. It was the voice she'd heard earlier.

Angel stepped into the room and lowered her hood but didn't remove her shades. She stared across the table at the three people in front of her who were, as usual, smoking cigars, drinking beer and playing poker.

"Hey look, man. It's Kat's friend. What you doin' all covered up like that?"

Angel fixed her gaze on Bradshaw. "I'm cold."

"You are? Well, come on over here and I'll warm you up real nice."

Sensing she wasn't going to get a sensible conversation out of Bradshaw, Angel shifted her focus to Faarooq. "I've come for protection."

Faarooq started to answer, but Bradshaw spoke over him. "Then you want the drug store down the road. Mention my name, they'll fix you up real good." He winked at her and she again turned to Faarooq.

"You guys are the Acolyte Protection Agency, right?"

"They are," Jackie, the woman sitting between them, replied. "But if you think you're going to get a straight answer out of these two you're crazier than you look."

"That's right, we are," Bradshaw smiled. "I forgot. Sorry."

"That's okay, brother," Faarooq said. "Who you want protection from, girl?"

"Eddie Guerrero, Perry Saturn, Dean Malenko and Terri."

"Those five-foot fools?" Faarooq cried.

"I think they're four feet, actually," Jackie put in.

"Oh yeah," Faarooq chuckled. "That's right." He looked back up at Angel. "How you gonna pay us? We don't take checks."

"She can pay us how the Kat paid us," Bradshaw suggested hopefully.

"How was that?' Angel asked.

"Here we go," Jackie sighed as Bradshaw excitedly slapped his hands down on the table. 

"She walked in here wearing one of those long coats, then she undid the buttons and POW! She stood before us, nekkid as the day she was born. It was the happiest night of my life."

Angel gave him a strange look from behind her shades. "Cash will be fine."

"You sure now?" Bradshaw asked.

Angel nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Cash it is," Faarooq announced.

Angel handed over the fee and turned to leave.

"You wanna stay for a beer, honey?" Bradshaw called after her.

Angel shook her head. "I have to be getting back."

"We'll see you at your match," Bradshaw told her. "And don't worry. We'll be pounding ass for you. At least I hope we will."

"Don't you hate it when no one tries to attack?" Faarooq asked.

"Oh man, that's the worst!" Bradshaw cried.

* * * *

Jeff walked up the hall alone, his fists clenched. He stopped at the right locker room and knocked loudly. "Guerrero!" he shouted. "Get your Latino ass out here!"

The door opened and there stood Eddie. "Hola, essa. You come to see me. Is there something that you want?"

Jeff glared at him. "You. Me. Right here. Right now."

Eddie put his hands in the air. "You don't wanna do that, essa. You don't want a piece of my Latino Heat, Mr. Tag Team Champion."

Jeff scowled. "I'll show you what I want."

Eddie smiled. "I know what you want. You want the little 'cita. I'm not the one you got a problem with, man. It's Benoit. He took her away from you, right? That wasn't me, essa. That was him."

"You attacked her," Jeff hissed.

"It was initiation!" Eddie cried. "We were gonna let her be a Radical. You been to college, huh? You seen those fraternities with their hazings or whatever? It's like that, essa."

"_You_ didn't even go to college," Jeff challenged.

"No, but I heard all about it. It's the same thing. We had to make sure she was tough enough, that she was really Radicalz material. But then Benoit came and ruined it all. They both gone, now. We ain't seen either of them. Who knows what they've been doin', huh?"

Jeff shook his head. "I don't believe you."

"You don't have to believe me, man, but I'm tellin' you the truth. Benoit's got the putacita. You should just forget about her. You got a title now."

"No!" Jeff snapped, punching Eddie in the face. Eddie was back on his feet in a flash.

"Oh, you want some of this?" he asked, clenching his fists. "Huh, essa, is that what you want?"

Jeff just glared at him and sucker punched him again. This time Eddie dove and tripped him and they scrambled on the ground.

The other Radicalz heard the noise and rushed from their locker room. Malenko grabbed Eddie while Saturn caught Jeff.

"You're in way over your head, Hardy Boy," Saturn told him. "If you know what's good for you, you'll get the hell out of here."

"Maybe I'll take you on, too," Jeff replied, trying to get in a shot.

Saturn just laughed and pushed him up against the wall. "You're not worth it, kid."

Jeff sank to the ground as the Radicalz laughed and entered their room. 

"Yeah?" Jeff called. "Well, you look like a damn walrus." He picked himself up, muttering under his breath, then started back down the hall. 

"Hi Jeff," Angel smiled as she passed him with Benoit.

"Hey Angel," Jeff replied distractedly, not stopping to chat.

Benoit shook his head sarcastically. "That was nice."

"Shut up," Angel sighed. "He has a title to think about. Too bad you can't say the same."

Benoit turned and glared at her. "Stay here."

"What?"

"Stay here!" With that, he entered the Radicalz locker room and found his former teammates huddled together, deep in conversation.

"Oh, don't mind me," he announced. "If you guys want to talk about me, just keep on talking. Go ahead, Eddie. What's on your mind?"  
"Where is she, man?" Eddie scowled. "Where's the puta?"  
Benoit overacted a shrug. "I don't know. What else you got to say, huh? No words? Well, why don't you mime it for me, instead? You want to hit me, Eddie? You want to take a shot?"

"Do I wanna hit you?" Eddie echoed as Benoit turned his back and spread his arms.

"Go ahead, Eddie. Hit me."

Eddie rushed him but was caught by Saturn and Malenko. "Whoa, whoa, whoa."  
Benoit grinned. "Come on, Eddie. Why aren't you hitting me?" he asked, his tone increasingly mocking. "I can hear you but I can't feel you. Come on, Eddie."

"Don't worry, Eddie. We'll get him later," Saturn announced.

Benoit's smirk disappeared as he turned back around. "We? We? _We'll_ get him later? Well, let me just say something. Me…and my _valet_…are going to the ring as soon as the first couple of matches are over. You can join me and we can take care of all our troubles one by one. I know I can beat you all. Prove me wrong, brothers. Prove me wrong."

Chuckling, he left the room, only to be faced with the sight of Jeff and Angel, kissing. Shaking his head, he grabbed her away. 

"Come on." Despite her injuries, he held her roughly and dragged her along. He stopped after about ten steps and turned back to Jeff. "I'd check your watch, sunshine. I think your match is about to start."

Jeff's eyes widened and he raced past them towards the backstage area. Benoit chuckled.

"You're a jerk," Angel scowled.

"You need to respect your friend's title belt," Benoit shot back. "Titles are everything."

"Then where's yours?"

Benoit squeezed her arm tightly, making her cry out. "Oh, did that hurt? I'm sorry I'm wasting my time fighting my former friends because they had the good sense to beat the crap out of you."

"Asshole," Angel muttered, shaking out her arm.

"Princess," Benoit smirked. "You always say the sweetest things."

* * * *

"The following series of matches make up a gauntlet. On his way to the ring, being accompanied by Angel Torres, from Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, weighing in at 227 pounds, Chris Benoit."

They made it to the ring before the Acolytes' music played and Faarooq and Bradshaw made their entrance.

"What the hell is that?" Benoit demanded.

"I paid for them," Angel replied expressionlessly.

"What? You don't think I can protect you?"

"You worry about what happens in the ring, okay?" Angel asked, climbing down to stand in his corner with an Acolyte on either side. 

She looked up as the Radicalz appeared on stage. She glared at them through her shades and called the Acolytes in.

"I want Terri," she informed them. "You keep the others away."

"You got it, darlin'," Bradshaw agreed.

Saturn was first up, meaning Terri took her place in his corner. Angel watched the action expressionlessly, just nodding slightly whenever Benoit executed a particularly good move.

Terri was behaving herself surprisingly well, which surely meant there was trouble ahead.

"Stay here," Angel told the Acolytes. She reached the corner just as Terri grabbed Benoit's leg. He spun furiously and grabbed her by the hair, setting up to suplex her into the ring. Just as Perry ran to help his girlfriend, Benoit jumped out of the way, causing Saturn to knock Terri off the apron. When she hit the ground, Angel was waiting for her.

"Hi Terri. Wanna see what it's like to be me?"  
Terri's eyes filled with fear. "No, Angel. I'm sorry. Please don't hurt me."

Angel smiled sadistically and pulled out her sticks while, up in the ring, Benoit locked on the crossface and forced Saturn to tap out. Perry rolled from the ring towards Terri's screams.

"Let go of my woman!" he shouted, grabbing Angel by the back of the neck. "Don't you ever learn?"

Suddenly, he was shoved from behind by Faarooq as Bradshaw waited to pick up the crumbs. 

Angel climbed out of the fray, put her sticks back as if reholstering a gun and returned to Benoit's corner. He was now fighting Malenko and tiring by the minute. Still he battled on as his former teammates cheered against him. Finally, Malenko pulled Benoit down for an attempted sunset flip, only to become trapped and unable to kick out. One…two…three. It was time for Eddie.

Eddie hesitated as Benoit tried to catch his breath, then sat on the ropes to invite Eddie into the ring. Suddenly, Saturn and Malenko ambushed Benoit from behind as Eddie laughed outside the ring.

"You want us to help him?" Bradshaw asked as Malenko held Benoit and Saturn hit a flying knee from the top turnbuckle.

Angel shook her head. "No."

Finally, Benoit was left lying in the ring and Eddie was ready to start.

"Get out! Dean, Perry, get out!" He rubbed his hands together and began the punishment. A giant suplex and frogsplash later, it was over.

"You know what, essa?" Eddie asked, standing over Benoit's body. "I think Latino Heat just proved you wrong."

"Okay," Angel said. "Now you can help him up."

Bradshaw and Faarooq helped Benoit to his feet as the Radicalz celebrated on the ramp.

"Look at him!' Eddie cried, pointing to the ring. "I told you he wasn't a Radical!"

Benoit was recovering his senses. "Get off me!" he shouted, shrugging off the Acolytes. "Come on, little girl."

Angel sighed and followed him from the ring. He'd lost. That meant he'd be even harder to live with than usual.

"I can't wait," she mused, before turning to the Acolytes. "Thanks, guys."

"No problem, honey," Bradshaw replied. "We'll still refund your money if you want to pay us like the Kat did."

Angel smiled. "Maybe next time."

* * * *

Jeff knocked and waited.

"Come in."

Nervously, Jeff entered the office. He'd never liked talking to the boss.

"Jeff Hardy," Vince smiled. "How are you enjoying your title reign?"

Jeff smiled back. "I'm enjoying it just fine, sir. But I'm not here about a tag match."

"Well, that _is_ interesting," Vince mused. "What can I do for you, Jeff?"

"I want a singles match against Eddie Guerrero."

"Are you sure? He is a former Intercontinental Champion."

"I know. I have a score to settle with him so I think it'll be best done in the ring."

"You wouldn't rather have Matt join you in taking on Guerrero and Malenko? Or you, Matt and Lita against Guerrero, Saturn and Terri?"

Jeff shook his head. "Me and Guerrero. That's what I want."

Vince nodded thoughtfully. "Well, you're a brave man, but if you think you're capable of it, it's yours. I'll book it for Heat."

Jeff was ecstatic. "Thank you, sir."

"That's not a problem, Jeff," Vince replied as Jeff left the room. He sat back in his leather chair. "Son, you are going to get killed."


	24. Last Man Standing

Title: Last Man Standing

Rating: PG-13 for violence

Spoilers: None. This match never happened and if it did, as if it'd only be on Heat ;-P

Disclaimer: As far as I know I made this match up, using characters that are owned by the WWE. Please don't sue.

Summary: The time has come for Jeff to stand tall, but things in wrestling rarely boil down to a simple one on one situation.

SUNDAY NIGHT HEAT, MARCH 11TH, 2001

"The following match is scheduled for one fall. Making his way to the ring, being accompanied by Angel Torres, from Cameron, North Carolina, weighing in at 215 pounds, one half of the World Wrestling Federation tag team champions, Jeff Hardy."

Angel turned to Jeff as they walked down the ramp. "Long introduction."

Jeff nodded. "I know."

He was wearing his Hardy Boyz basketball jersey while Angel was still dressed in her 'druid of darkness' gear, with Jeff's title belt draped over her shoulder. They reached the ring and Jeff held the ropes so she could enter, before Jeff signaled the crowd and handed his belt to the ring announcer. He then stood face to face with Angel and nodded at her. Slowly, keeping her eyes on Jeff, she lowered her hood, then took off her shades and handed them to him. Jeff broke into a smile and nodded again. Next, Angel moved her arms to the bottom of her sweatshirt and pulled it off to reveal Lita's purple Team eXtreme crop top. The crowd went wild and Angel grinned at Jeff.

"Thanks for this, Jeff. It means so much that you'd do this for me."

Jeff smiled back. "My pleasure, 'Gel."

They wrapped their arms around each other, getting quite a pop from the crowd, which only escalated when Angel tilted her head up and kissed him.

Suddenly, the first few notes of a song called 'Shooter' filled the air and they broke apart to watch the next entry.

Miles away, Tazz and Michael Cole were adding their commentary.

"Look, Tazz. It's Chris Benoit! What's he doing here?"

"What do you mean what's he doing here? I don't know what Jeff Hardy was thinking just now, but you do not kiss another man's valet. That's just asking for trouble."

"Well, we're about to see just how much trouble as Benoit reaches the bottom of the ramp."

Benoit glared up at Angel. "You!" he shouted, pointing to the ground. "Now!"

Angel started to move away but Jeff grabbed her by the face, turned her head and started kissing her again as the crowd cheered wildly.

Benoit was livid, jumping into the ring and grabbing Angel by the leg. He dragged her through the ropes and onto the ground, depositing her on her feet. Angel scowled at him and shook her head slowly, then emphatically turned her back and leaned on the apron.

"There's a lot of heat out there already, Cole, and we've still only got one guy in the ring."

That was about to change. 

Angel waited patiently for 'Latino Heat' but instead, the Radicalz song played and all four of them stepped out onto the stage.

Jeff glowered at them. "Guerrero!"

"I can't hear you, essa!" Eddie called back. "Why don't I come a bit closer so you can tell me all about it, huh?"

He strutted cockily down the ramp, thinking his fellow Radicalz were following right behind him. He was only half-right.

"Now look! It's Matt Hardy and Lita!"

"The picture is complete now, Michael Coleslaw," Tazz replied as Lita attacked Malenko and Matt fought both Saturn and Terri, which was not too difficult, given Terri's abilities. The bell rang. The match had started.

Jeff began with a flourish, running at Guerrero, but the move was anticipated and Eddie sent him into the corner with an Irish whip, then launched a series of punches. 

"Come on, Jeff!" Angel cried as Matt, Lita and the other Radicalz battled on.

Eddie kept getting in punches but Jeff used the ropes to help swing his legs up and kick Eddie away, then he climbed to the top turnbuckle and stopped an advancing Eddie with a corkscrew moonsault.

"Yeah, Jeff!" Angel applauded, jumping up and down.

Next Jeff ran at Eddie, fists flying, but Eddie was prepared and caught him with a belly to belly suplex. Eddie ran at the ropes, setting up for another vicious takedown, but Jeff had bounced right back to his feet and was ready, lifting Eddie into a body back drop which made him fly right into the ref. Jeff saw the tangle of bodies and smiled down at Angel, who was waiting in his corner. He lifted a dazed Eddie off the ref and dragged him to the corner.

"Pole him, Angel!"

Angel grinned sadistically and grabbed Eddie's legs on either side of the ring post, then pulled them towards her, hard. The crowd let out a collective cry of sympathy as Eddie screamed, writhing in agony.

Jeff took another look at the fallen ref and nodded to himself. "Come on in, 'Gel."

Not caring what Benoit had to say, Angel climbed onto the apron, where Jeff grabbed her carefully and lifted her into the ring. They then turned to Eddie, grabbed one side each and double whipped him into the ropes. As he made his return journey, they each caught one arm and one leg and sent him for a spin cycle, before throwing him into the corner again. They ran into the corner and strung Eddie up on the ropes, then Angel grabbed Jeff's arm.

"Poetry In Motion?"

Jeff nodded and Angel took a few steps away and dropped to her hands and knees. Jeff took a run up, springboarded off Angel's back and slammed his legs into Eddie's face. Eddie toppled forward onto the canvas as Angel got to her feet and high-fived Jeff. The ref gave a moan and started to stir so Angel decided it was time to leave. She rolled from the ring as Jeff picked Eddie up and dropped him in a clumsy powerslam, then went for the lateral press.

The ref was back with his eyes on the action.

"One…two…" But somehow Eddie kicked out. Jeff jumped to his feet and ran at the ropes, ready for the takedown, but Eddie ducked and sent him over in a huge suplex, before making the cover.

Jeff kicked out quickly but Eddie still had the advantage, lifting his opponent for a vertical suplex. Somehow, Jeff twisted his body in midair and landed on his feet so that he and Eddie were now back to back. Jeff reached back, grabbed Eddie around the neck and threw him across the ring in a devastating takedown. Before he could recover, Jeff lifted his legs from the canvas, spread them and brought his own legs down between them. He smiled down at Eddie's pain and climbed to the top turnbuckle, where he bowed for the crowd, signaling the Swanton Bomb. It was time for Jeff to fly. Unfortunately, by the time he reached the canvas, Eddie had moved and Jeff's back hit the deck with a painful thud.

Eddie took a few seconds to look down and find out where his teammates were. 

"What's happening, guys? You're supposed to be helping me destroy this little child."

"Here, Eddie!" Malenko cried. He'd managed to lose Lita long enough to grab Jeff's title belt from the ring announcer and now placed it in Eddie's corner. Eddie broke into an evil grin as he stepped over to pick it up. Title belt. His weapon of choice.

The ref was less impressed. "You can't use that. If you use it, I'm going to disqualify you."

"Calm down, essa," Eddie replied innocently. "I'm just playin' with it, you know?"

But when the ref tried to take it from him, Eddie wouldn't let go. They played tug-of-war for a few seconds until the ref made a big grab for it and Eddie released it. The belt flew back into the ref's face as his own momentum sent his head slamming against the ring post, knocking him out cold.

"See?" Eddie grinned, snatching up the belt again. "We can all share it. Now it's the Hardy boy's turn."

But, as he spun to see where Jeff was, he was met with a massive drop kick to the face, which floored him and forced him to drop the belt. Jeff instinctively picked it up and looked over at the fallen ref, a sick smile on his face. He took a few steps backwards for a run up.

"No! Jeff! Let me!"

Jeff spun to his corner. "You wanna do it?"

Angel nodded eagerly.

Jeff's smile widened. "Well, come on in!"

He slid the title belt along the canvas as Angel climbed back into the ring. Jeff picked Eddie up from the ground and held him as Angel switched her gaze from the belt in her hands to Eddie's semi-conscious face.

"I have been wanting to do this for so long!" she cried, starting to run towards him.

It seemed to happen in slow motion. Angel reached Eddie, the belt hurtled forward, Eddie opened his eyes and ducked in the nick of time, the belt continued on its way and collected Jeff's forehead instead.

Three things dropped. Jeff dropped Eddie, Angel dropped the belt and Jeff dropped to the ground. Angel's hands flew to her mouth. "Oh my God! Oh my God!"

"Thank you, 'cita," Eddie grinned, getting to his feet. "Maybe you are Radicalz material after all." He stepped wearily over to her and clutched her in a hug that held about as much affection as a Judas kiss. "Unfortunately, Mr. Chris Benoit doesn't want you to be a Radical no more." 

He changed his hold and sent her for a huge back body drop, which slammed her own head into the discarded title belt. Eddie rolled her over and placed the belt on her head, then climbed the ropes for the frogsplash.

"Hasta la vista, my Radicalz sister!" he shouted as he began his flight. At that moment – bam – a chair shot changed his course and he fell painfully to the ground. He tried to get to his feet and work out what had happened. Just as he saw his attacker, the chair swung round again. This time he didn't even make it to his feet before the chair hit him. Bam, bam, bam, bam, bam. Eddie's eyes were closed. He wouldn't be getting up any time soon.

Still clutching the chair, Benoit smirked down at his former comrade and slowly shook his head. 

"Eddie, I don't know how many times I have to tell you not to touch her."

With that, he threw in one more chair shot for good measure, then turned to leave.

Only one man had seen what had happened. Perry Saturn had managed to drop Matt and leaped into the ring to confront Benoit. Benoit was ready for him. Bam. Down went Saturn. Terri rushed to her boyfriend's aid. Bam. Down went Terri. Matt finally looked up to see Jeff and Angel's bodies lying in the ring and Benoit with the chair in his hands and immediately came to the wrong conclusion, rushing the ring.

"Benoit, you damn son of a…"

Bam. Down went Matt.

Benoit held the very bent chair over his head. "Anyone else want to try me? Anyone?"

On the floor, Malenko was catching his breath after a spirited battle with Lita, which had ended with him suplexing her onto the steel steps and knocking her out.

"I'll prove you wrong, you cocky piece of crap." He climbed into the ring and prepared for battle. Bam. Down went Malenko. Over in the corner, Jeff was starting to recover after Angel's title belt shot to his head. He focused on Benoit and the chair.

"Benoit," he spat. "You goddamn…" Bam. Jeff was silenced. 

Still smirking, Benoit threw the chair away and surveyed the seven bodies in the ring and one outside. As JR would say, it looked like a damn car wreck. He decided to tidy things up a bit. One boot and Malenko fell from the ring. Another boot and Saturn followed him. Next he lifted Terri and dropped her over the top rope and onto Saturn. It was Matt's turn. Benoit kicked him in the kidneys a couple of times before shoving him out onto the steel steps, next to Lita. 

Eddie, Angel and Jeff were the only ones left. Benoit grabbed Jeff by the arm and dragged him towards Eddie, then draped Jeff's arm over the top. He looked down on the two of them as he started to hear sounds of movement coming from the corner where the ref lay. Eddie or Jeff. Jeff or Eddie. Benoit had the power to decide the outcome of the match. Neither of these two was capable of breaking the count. The question was, who deserved the win? One had been his long-term friend, the other part of a team that had a long-standing feud with Benoit's former team. One was his most recent enemy, the other was possibly his valet's boyfriend. The choice was his. Scowling, he shook his head, before violently kicking both of them. He lifted Jeff's upper body and slammed him back down so that his arm was no longer on Eddie. Then he gave Eddie another kick, which moved him just far enough from Jeff to remove any possibility of an incidental cover.

Still shaking his head, Benoit dragged Angel's body to the very edge of the ring, before exiting. He gathered Angel up and put her over his shoulder, before turning back in time to see the ref stumbling to his feet. Nodding slowly, he started up the ramp as the ref began the count.

"One! Two!"

In his arms, Angel had started to show signs of life. "Jeff," she slurred, not realizing who had her. "Jeff, did we win? Did we win?"

"Yeah, princess," Benoit smirked as the count continued. "We won."

"Nine! Ten!" The ring bell sounded, signaling the end of the match as EMTs appeared from all angles.

"Well, MC," Tazz was saying. "The match is over and we still don't have a winner."

"Actually, Tazz. I think the only winner in this case was Chris Benoit."

As if hearing his name, Benoit stopped on the stage and turned back to give the scene one last smirk. With his mission well and truly accomplished and his valet over his shoulder, he stepped calmly off the stage and through the curtain, another match complete.


	25. True Colors

Title: True Colors

Rating: PG-13 for violence, language, adult themes

Spoilers: For the date given. There's some direct dialogue from Benoit and the announcers and one match has a slightly altered ending (though the result is the same)

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this stuff except for Angel. 

Summary: Angel shows her true colors, but how and to whom?

A/N: If you have any questions about this story (and I know there may be some, as in why do the hotels these people stay in have wrestling rings in their gyms? Answer - they just do, lol), write me a review and give me an email address. All questions will be answered :-)

RAW IS WAR, MARCH 12TH, 2001

Despite waking up with a slight headache on Monday morning, Angel felt better than she had in a week and decided to resume basic training. Of course, Benoit accompanied her; she couldn't stop that. She did her fitness and strength exercises, then worked with Blackman for a while. When they were done, Angel looked around nervously.

"He's not coming, is he?" she asked at last.

Blackman shook his head. "I can't say I blame him. What you did was not cool."

Angel frowned, sick of having to justify herself over things which weren't her fault. "Then why are _you_ still here?"

Blackman shrugged. "You haven't dressed up like me, yet."

Angel sighed. "Listen, Steve, it wasn't my fault."

"I don't care," Blackman cut her off. "Al's not coming, that's obvious, but I'm here and I'll continue to keep being here until you decide to screw me over too. I will have to warn you against that, though. You should know better than anyone what I'm capable of."

Angel blinked, his words stinging her. "I do. I guess…I guess we're finished for today?"  
Blackman nodded coolly. "I guess so. See you tomorrow." He shifted his gaze to Benoit. "See you tomorrow, Benoit."

Benoit just smirked as Angel reached him.

"Oh, and Angel?" Blackman called. "Watch yourself. It's much easier to make enemies round here than it is to keep friends."

"Your coaches give good advice," Benoit muttered. "Too bad they don't train you properly."

"Shut up," Angel scowled, pushing past him and out the door.

* * * *

"You go find a seat while I get the food," Benoit ordered as they reached the catering area of the arena.

"I got it already," Angel snapped, looking around the room for one of her friends or acquaintances, any protection in case one of her enemies showed up. She carefully examined the faces at the tables. No Hardys, no Hollys, no Acolytes, no Too Cool or K-Kwik. Surprisingly, she suddenly spotted the one person she wanted to see more than anyone else.

He was choosing drinks from an ice chest on a small table right across the room from where she was standing. The most direct way was over the tables, so that's how Angel decided to go.

She ran quickly, dodging plates and cups, ignoring the protests of other people, leaping from table to table. Finally, when she was close enough, she launched herself and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him as she slid down his body.

Jeff's look of surprise quickly changed to a smile as he returned her kiss and hugged her tightly.

"Hey Angel," he breathed as they came up for air.

"Hi Jeff," Angel grinned, pulling his face down towards hers again.

Before they could get carried away, Lita and Matt showed up.

"Geez, Jeff," Lita cried, putting her arms around the two of them as Matt balanced three plates. "I know me and Matt took forever with the food but you could've waited a little longer before you started eating my cousin."

Blushing, Angel buried her forehead against Jeff's neck. "Everyone's looking at us, aren't they?"

Jeff laughed. "Oh yeah. Big time."

"Oh my God," Angel sighed, headbutting him lightly with every word.

Jeff laughed again. "Come on, 'Gel. Let's go sit down."

He led her to a table as Matt set out everyone's food.

"See anything you like, 'Gel?" Jeff asked.

She sighed deeply, remembering Benoit. "No, mine's on its way."

"Great," Jeff muttered, clutching Angel around the waist. "That's just who I wanted to see."

Angel shrugged, playing with his face. "I'll move down. I don't' want another confrontation."

Jeff squeezed her and kissed her on the top of the head. "Come by our match tonight, if he'll give you permission."

"I don't care what he thinks. But isn't Lita your valet?"

"Yeah, but if Matt gets his girlfriend at ringside, I want mine there too."

Angel looked puzzled. "Is that what we are?"

"Well, aren't we?" Jeff asked warily.

Angel slowly broke into a smile. "Yeah, I guess we are."

From across the table, Matt spoke and destroyed their moment. "Hey kids. Benoit, two o'clock."

Angel's face fell. "Dammit," she sighed, pushing herself to her feet. "I guess I'd better go." She grabbed Jeff's head in an embrace, then bent down to kiss him quickly. "See you guys later."

"Bye Angel," they chorused as she walked away.

Jeff smoothed his hair and looked across the table at Matt and Lita. "I hate him. I really hate him."

"We know, honey," Lita replied sympathetically. "We hate him too."

Angel reached Benoit and thrust her hands onto her hips. 

"I thought I told you to find somewhere to sit," Benoit accused.

"I did," she replied testily. "But apparently only one of us was welcome there."

Benoit glowered at her. "Fine. We'll eat in the locker room."

"What?"

"Get moving!" Benoit ordered.

Angel scowled at his back as she followed him from the room, muttering under her breath. "Like it's my fault you don't have any friends."

Benoit stopped short and spun to face her. "Oh, it's not your fault, is it? It could never be your fault that I again have to fight the Radicalz tonight instead of being part of them. You didn't cause that, did you? Did you?"

Angel blinked at him. Was that hurt she saw in his face? "I'm just saying it wouldn't kill you to be nice from time to time."

"Nice," Benoit repeated through his teeth. "Has no place in wrestling. Now, move!"

Shaking her head, Angel walked on, wondering if Benoit had a breaking point and, if so, exactly how close was she to reaching it?

* * * *

Angel looked over at Benoit as the two of them ate in silence. He stared back expressionlessly, making sure she ate all her food.

"Does it bother you that me and Jeff are a couple now?" Angel asked finally.

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "So you're a couple," he repeated.

Angel nodded. "Does that news upset you?"

Benoit shrugged. "Why should I bother forming an opinion on something that'll be over just as soon as it started?"

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" Angel asked testily.

"These things don't last," Benoit shrugged, turning back to his plate.

"But Matt and Lita…"

"I don't care about Matt and Lita. I'm not talking about them. I'm talking about you."

"You don't even know me," Angel accused.

"Princess, I know you better than you think. Jeff Hardy's not an idiot. He'll work out what you're doing."

"Oh, and what am I doing, genius?" Angel demanded.

"Using him to get to me," Benoit replied, matter-of-factly.

Angel snapped. "Oh, you wish, buddy! Really, Benoit, you're just like Malenko."

"I'm like Malenko? Did you say I'm like Malenko? Little girl, you're the one who thinks I'm talking about sex."

"Well, what the hell _are_ you talking about?" Angel demanded.

Benoit smirked at her. "I'm talking about you, hating the fact that you have to be my valet, hating it more than anything else in the world. I'm talking about you, getting Jeff to worship you so he'll do anything for you, and you finally conceding to get it on so he'll think 'hey, I just might have a chance with this girl'…"

"You don't know what you're…" Angel started, but Benoit cut her off with a look.

"I'm talking about you, convincing Jeff to fight me. Winner takes all. Winner takes you."

"What?" Angel asked with a frown.

"Stipulation match," Benoit grinned. "The best man gets the girl."

"You can do that?"

Benoit shook his head disdainfully. "Princess, surely you've been here long enough to know that all problems begin and end in the ring."

Angel was dumbfounded. "You…you'd agree to that?"

"Yes."

"But why? You'd lose me."

"No I wouldn't. It'd be just another victory for the greatest damn technical wrestler in the WWF. I have no doubt about that at all."

"Don't discount Jeff," Angel warned him. "He…"

"I know," Benoit cut in. "He _loves_ you. Or wants to screw you, I don't know. Both are strong motivators. But passion can only get you so far. Power does the rest. And that's what I'm all about. You see, I will beat Jeff and then he'll realize that you were only using him as a way out of our little deal. How do you think he'll feel then?"

Angel shook her head, running her tongue over her teeth. "No, no. I have feelings for Jeff, too. And he can beat you. Can and will. And then he and I will be together while you and me will be nothing. In fact, we're nothing now. We'll be less than nothing. You'll regret telling me about this, Benoit. Because after I let Jeff know, I'll never have to look at your piggy face again."

"Piggy face?" Benoit asked, confused.

"Piggy face," Angel repeated, as if it was the harshest insult ever. She put her plate down on the floor. "I'm going to go get ready. I think you'll like my outfit tonight, Benoit. I'm choosing it just for you."

Benoit watched her leave and shook his head slowly. "Piggy face," he murmured, thoroughly bewildered. He shrugged it off. If she was going where he thought she was going, she was playing right into his hands.

* * * *

"Okay!" Angel cried, bursting into Matt, Jeff and Lita's locker room. "Who wants to help me piss off Benoit?"

"I'm in," Jeff announced as Matt and Lita nodded their agreement.

"What you got planned, Angel?" Matt asked.

Angel turned to her cousin. "Li, I need you to help me make one of those tops."

"Like this one?" Lita asked, pointing at her transformed T-shirt. When Angel nodded, she continued. "I'll get the scissors."

"Jeff," Angel said, smiling over at him. "You promised me a Hardy Boyz shirt, right?"

"Right," Jeff smiled back, before finally breaking eye contact to dig through his bag.

"Matt," Angel grinned, holding up the marker she's stolen from Terri's makeup case a week earlier. "You're in charge of body art. I am your canvas."

"Problem!" Jeff cried before Matt could get to work. Angel stared at him with a frown as he looked up from his bag. "I only brought my plain black shirt."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Then give her the one you're wearing and put that one on instead."

Jeff looked down. Sure enough, there was Hardy Boyz symbol on his shirt, plain as day.

"Right," he grinned, slipping it over his head. He stepped over to hand it to Angel but caught her making long, sweeping glances over his body. Jeff stared at her quizzically and she finally caught his eye, breaking into a knowing and incredibly sexy smile. He couldn't take it and lunged at her, wrapping her up in his arms as he kissed her.

Matt calmly picked up the discarded shirt. "Lita," he called, handing it to her.

Lita smiled at the couple, then at Matt, and went to work. "I hope Jeff didn't want this back," she mused as she cut strips out of the back and removed the sleeves.

"Oh, I don't think he minds," Matt replied with a smile.

"I don't have time to hem it or anything, but…" Lita trailed off. "Hey, Ange. We're finished over here."

Angel broke away from Jeff and turned to her cousin. "Okay," she grinned. "Team eXtreme me."

When they were finished, Angel was a work of art. She had her Hardy Boyz pendant and 'crop top', and Matt had written the word 'Team' down one arm and 'eXtreme' down the other. The back of each hand had a Hardy Boyz symbol and the bottom knuckle of each finger had a letter, spelling 'MATT' on her left hand and 'LITA' on her right. Her palms bore two letters each, so that if she held them up and out they spelled Jeff's name.

Angel examined herself in the mirror. "Oh yeah," she grinned, nodding her head. "Benoit is going to hate this. Thanks, guys, this is awesome."

"No problem," Matt smiled, before turning to Jeff. "That's the girls taken care of. You and me gotta get ready now."

Jeff nodded. "Angel, you gonna come down for our match?"

"Of course," Angel smiled. "The more exposure I can get looking like this, the better."

Jeff smiled back. He had that look in his eyes, like he was going to kiss her again, but Matt stopped him. "Jeff, you smudge my art, you're a dead man."

"You better get ready," Angel smiled. "There's something I want to ask you, but it can wait until after."

"There is?" Jeff asked, reaching for his shirt. "What is it?"

Angel shook her head. "After. It's a surprise. You'll like it. I mean, I like it."

Jeff nodded slowly. "Then I guess I _will_ like it."

* * * *

Angel was a completely different person when she made her entrance with the Hardyz. She smiled, she danced, she held up her hands so people watching on TV could read them. When Jeff locked up with X-Pac she cheered him on loudly.

"Yeah, Jeff!" she shouted, applauding as he gave X-Pac a dropkick to the back of the head, then ran to tag Matt. They double-teamed X-Pac a couple of times before Jeff returned to the corner.

"That was awesome, Jeff," Angel cried.

Jeff smiled down at her. "You liked that, huh?"

"Oh yeah," Angel replied, before being grabbed around the shoulders by Lita, who led her away.

"Ange, no one's happier than me that you and Jeff are together, but this is a title match and they have to concentrate."

"You're right, I'm sorry," Angel replied, leaning on the apron. "Come on, Matt!"

"Hey!" cried both Lita and Angel as X-Pac nailed Matt with a martial arts kick from outside the ring, but the worst wasn't over with Justin Credible pushing Matt out onto the ground and jumping down after him. Jeff tried to give chase but was stopped by the ref as X and Credible posted Matt, much to Lita's horror. They then threw Matt back into the ring and. After an X-Pac spinning heel kick, it was time for the broncobuster.

"That's awful!" Angel cried as X-Pac bounced up and down on Matt. "Is that guy gay or something?"

Despite her concern, Lita laughed. "I don't know. Come on, Matt!"

X-Pac tagged Credible, but Matt moved just as Justin made an attack, causing him to post himself.

"Yeah!" screamed Angel as Matt made the tag. Jeff made his entrance by flipping himself over the ropes, to Angel's delight. His opponents went for the double team, but he took them both down with a perfect dropkick.

"Let's go, Jeff!" Angel shouted as he dropped X-Pac with a corkscrew moonsault. Next, Matt arrived for the Poetry In Motion, but X-Pac attacked Jeff from behind, whipping him into the ropes, then trying for an armdrag takedown, which sent Jeff flying from the ring and into Lita.

"Lita, are you okay?" Jeff asked, trying to get to his feet.

"Jeff, I've got her," Angel told him. "You go help Matt." Jeff nodded and climbed the ropes as Matt threw X-Pac from the ring, then performed the Twist Of Fate on Justin Credible. Jeff flew in the Swanton Bomb and made the cover as Angel cheered him on from where she was trying to help Lita stand.

"One! Two!"

Suddenly, a huge bald man, who Angel recognized as Albert, grabbed Jeff. The bell rang but Albert lifted Jeff above his head and threw him a good ten feet onto the concrete floor in front of the crowd. 

"I'll be right back, Lita," Angel fumed, jumping to her feet. She slid through the ring, stood on the apron and raised her sticks above her head. "Aaaaah!" Albert turned just as she jumped and tried to hurricanrana him. But he just caught her and dumped her carelessly on the bottom of the ramp, before climbing into the ring to give Matt a Baldo Bomb.

At that moment, Chris Benoit came racing down the ramp. He hoisted Angel over his shoulder and was gone just as fast, letting the fight finish behind him and not caring in the slightest who came out on top.

* * * *

By the time they reached the hallway, Angel had started to struggle. "Let me down!"

Benoit ignored her protests until they reached the locker room. He dumped her onto the bench.

"Thanks for the ride," she scowled. "But I am capable of walking."

Benoit eyed her accusingly. "How am I supposed to keep you safe when you pick fights with people more than twice your size?"

Angel shrugged. "He hurt Jeff."

"Then did it occur to you he'd hurt you, too? No, I didn't think so. Stay right here."

"Where are you going?' Angel asked.

Benoit didn't answer her question. "Turn the TV on. I think you'll like this."

* * * *

Angel watched as the Radicalz strategized ways of destroying Benoit. She smiled and nodded at some of their ideas. Saturn suggested lynching him, tying him to the back of Eddie's car and then dragging him up and down the street. Malenko thought it would be a great idea to attack him with a steel pipe, then sit around and watched him bleed. Renewed by their ideas, they left to hunt Benoit down.

As he complained about having to find a rope somewhere, Saturn stopped for a drink. When the other two had disappeared from view, Benoit leaped out from behind a wall and attacked him, before locking on the crossface. Benoit didn't let him go until all Saturn's strength was gone. Then he simply got to his feet and smirked down at his former teammate. One down, two to go.

* * * *

Chris Jericho interrupted William Regal's inaugural speech as commissioner (a position he'd won in a match with Al Snow). It was supposed to be funny and the crowd loved it, but Angel didn't laugh.

Next, Christian met D-Von Dudley in a match to determine whose team would take on Matt and Jeff in a week's time. Buh Buh Ray interfered and handed D-Von the match, but Angel just kept wondering when the hell Benoit was getting back. 

Vince McMahon showed up with Trish Stratus and then, finally, Malenko and Eddie were shown, walking the halls as Malenko lugged a steel pipe. Eddie promised to watch his friend's back as Malenko walked through a doorway, into another passage. Just then, Benoit shoved the door shut, locking Eddie out. He knocked Malenko down, then bent the pipe around his knees, before breaking it over his back. He opened the door and Eddie burst in to find his friend lying on the ground. He looked up, right into the cold eyes of Chris Benoit.

"It's time," Benoit announced. "See you in the ring."

Eddie launched into some smack talk but he didn't sound nearly as confident as he had before.

A minute later, Benoit arrived back at the locker room.

"Come on," he said to Angel as he pulled his T-shirt off. "It's time to go."

Angel sighed and got to her feet. "You think that impressed me?"

"Didn't it?"

Angel just raised her eyebrows and followed him from the room.

* * * *

"I'm going to sit at the announce desk," Angel declared, hoping he'd argue with her. But Benoit didn't even flinch. He was in the zone.

Angel took her seat beside Paul Heyman. 

"Hi," she said sullenly.

"Angel Torres," Heyman greeted her. "You're looking very eXtreme tonight."

"Yeah," Angel replied as Eddie made his entrance. She stiffened noticeably.

"I take it you're not an Eddie Guerrero fan?" JR asked.

"You take right," Angel murmured.

Eddie tried to attack Benoit but was immediately brought to the canvas in a legdrag takedown. 

"So, you'll be cheering on Chris Benoit?" Heyman asked.

"You don't take that right," Angel replied as Benoit kicked Eddie in the corner.

"You are his valet, correct?" JR questioned.

"That's right."

"So, isn't it your job to cheer him on?"

Angel shook her head. "I accompany him to and from the ring. That's what I do."

Eddie ducked a hard right and started punching Benoit.

"You don't like Chris Benoit, then?" Heyman asked.

"No, I don't."

"But isn't it true that this feud between Chris Benoit and Eddie Guerrero started because of you?"

"That's right. I valet, Benoit keeps me safe. That's our deal. The Radicalz attacked me, Benoit had to get revenge."

"While we're on that, Angel, it seems to me that you're responsible for the breakup of one of the greatest friendships or partnerships I've seen in my years of broadcasting. Don't you feel even the slightest empathy for the man who lost it all because of a simple deal?"

Angel shook her head. "No, I don't. And don't martyrize him. No matter what he says, no matter what he does, he's still a son of a bitch and I hate him with a passion. With or without his former puppets."

"Well, you heard it, folks. Angel Torres is not a happy young lady."

Angel simply clenched her jaw and watched the action expressionlessly, refusing to say another word.

"It seems to me that if not even his valet's on his side, Chris Benoit doesn't have a friend in the world."

"Yeah, but that's the way he likes it," Heyman argued. "Chris Benoit's a monster, he's a machine. He doesn't need anyone else."

"Benoit, burying that knee into the abdomen of Eddie Guerrero."

But, just as Benoit seemed to have the upper hand, Eddie brought him down in a hurricanrana and started a flurry of punches to the face.

It was anyone's match. Eddie tried the suplex, reversal from Benoit, Benoit tossed Eddie from the ring.

Angel nodded slowly, glowering at the image of Eddie's body on the monitor in front of her. Benoit tried for a suicide dive into Eddie, but missed it, ramming his head and shoulders into the barricade. Eddie signaled his intentions to the crowd and started kicking Benoit. Angel watched expressionlessly, folding and unfolding her hands.

The action returned to the ring, with Eddie suplexing Benoit and getting a two-count.

"All credit to Benoit for kicking out," Heyman announced. "For there would be no shame in losing after missing the suicide dive."

Angel turned to him, aghast. "Do you know him? He hates to lose. He's even more of a bastard when he loses than when he wins."

"So, you do want him to win?"

"Of course I want him to win. Doesn't mean I hate him any less."

Again Eddie made a cover and got a two count, then another.

Somehow, Benoit dug deep for a series of German suplexes. He spread his arms. It was headbutt time. Benoit crashed onto Eddie but it took a lot out of him and by the time he made the cover, Eddie kicked out on two.

Both men were exhausted. Reversal followed reversal until Guerrero landed two brain busters in a row, then stumbled towards the corner.

Angel knew what was next.

"See you later," she murmured, wrenching off her headset. She raced to the corner and by the time Guerrero reached the top turnbuckle, she was ready. Just as he started his frogsplash, she slapped her sticks hard across his back and he fell harmlessly to the canvas. The ref was watching over Benoit's body and hadn't seen a thing. Angel ducked behind the apron as an almost exhausted Benoit found his legs, rolled through Eddie and locked on the crossface. Eddie tapped out, the bell rang, and it was over.

Angel threw her hands in the air, nodding to herself. She climbed into the ring and helped Benoit to his feet, then raised his hand in victory.

"How do you like that, you piece of crap?" Angel shouted as Benoit grabbed her to keep from falling down. "We just kicked your ass!"

"When you see Dean and Perry at the ER, say hi for me," Benoit added as he stumbled from the ring. 

Angel patted Benoit on the back as they stopped at the bottom of the ramp and turned back once more. Benoit smirked while Angel nodded coolly. She'd be damned if she let the Radicalz screw with her anymore. Benoit might be the one taking the fight to the ring but, as she had just shown, she was perfectly capable of defending herself.

* * * *

Angel returned from the trainer's room, armed with some ice packs. 

"Put this one on your knee," she suggested. "I'll get your neck and back with the other ones."

Benoit didn't argue; he simply applied the ice to his knee, bending down so she could get at his back.

"About what you did out there," he said at last.

"Uh huh," Angel murmured, concentrating on her two ice packs.

"That wasn't about me, was it? It was about Eddie."

"That's right."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

They sat in silence until Angel announced, "Fifteen minutes. Take it off."

Benoit removed the ice and tried to sit up straight. He watched Angel for a while, but she was used to it and didn't even move.

"I think it's time we talked about your costume," Benoit said at last.

Angel spread her Team eXtreme arms. "You don't like it?" she asked innocently.

"Don't play with me, little girl," Benoit scowled.

"You've never complained about my costume before," Angel shrugged.

"You've never stepped out there for one of my matches looking like that before," Benoit told her.

"Well," said Angel, getting to her feet and spinning around slowly. "What don't you like?"

"Six year olds play with magic marker," Benoit started. "You don't."

"No magic marker," Angel shrugged. "I can live with that."

"If you want a pattern on anything, you ask me first," Benoit continued.

Angel followed his gaze to her top. "Get your damn eyes off my…"

"Puppies?" Benoit mocked. "Don't flatter yourself, princess. I was looking at that symbol. Speaking of which," he added, stepping up to her and grabbing at her neck. "You don't wear this." With that, he pulled at her pendant, snapping the necklace.

"Hey!" Angel cried, trying to grab at it. "That's not mine! It was a present!"

"And it's presently mine," Benoit told her, amused by his own humor.

Angel scowled at him. "Why are you such a prick?"

"That's what happens when you try me," Benoit replied simply. "Now, let's get back to the hotel."


	26. Conspiracy Theories

Title: Conspiracy Theories

Spoilers: For the date given

Summary: Someone sends Jeff a videotape that could change his relationship with Angel forever.

SMACKDOWN, MARCH 15TH, 2001

There was a knock at the door. Jeff took his time answering it and when he did, no one was there. 

"Funny," he mused, looking up and down the hallway. Finally, he peered down and spotted a package. There was a hand-written label on the front of an envelope bearing the WWF logo. 'Jeff Hardy. Compliments of the production team'. Shrugging, Jeff stepped back into his room and opened the envelope. He pulled out a video, which had a note inside the cover. Jeff read it, intrigued.

'Jeff. Thought you'd find this interesting'. 

That was it. No signature, no nothing. He didn't even recognize the handwriting. Somehow, they'd chosen the only hotel he'd had for some time with a working VCR. He put the tape in and pressed play. Hey, who knew? It could be his next Mission: Impossible.

* * * *

Matt let himself in and stepped up next to his brother. "You ready to train? Lita's waiting."

Jeff raised his hand and cut him off.

"What you watching?" Matt asked, focusing on the screen.

Jeff pressed rewind, then play. "What do you make of this?" he frowned as the tape played.

"It's your Heat match," Matt guessed correctly.

Jeff nodded. "Check it out."

Matt watched carefully as the title belt flew through the air and connected with Jeff's head.

"That was an accident," Matt decided. "Eddie ducked."

"Keep watching," Jeff advised as the camera panned to Eddie's smiling face and the back of Angel's head as they hugged. Then there was a gap before the next part of the tape started.

"Want to see it again?" Jeff asked.

Matt nodded slowly and Jeff wound the tape back again.

"It makes you think, doesn't it?" Jeff mused.

"It might be nothing," Matt told him. "Someone could have doctored that. We don't know what happened afterwards."

"Yes, we do," Jeff replied as he again rewound the tape. "Benoit climbed in with a chair and went postal on everyone, then he grabbed Angel and off he went. Chris Jericho already told me that part. Now, watch carefully, Matt. She stops me hitting him. She says 'let me do it', then she takes a run up, says 'I've been waiting to do this for so long' and look what happens. Was she aiming for me, Matt? That's how it seems, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it does," Matt admitted. "Still, Jeff, there's no use jumping to conclusions."

"Yeah, there's still more," Jeff agreed as the next match on the tape began. "Benoit versus Guerrero. If there were ever two guys who I'd like to see beating the crap out of each other, there they are."

Matt and Jeff watched in silence. Finally, it ended and Jeff switched it off with a violent click of the remote control. 

"I don't need to watch that one again," he muttered.

"Jeff…" Matt started.

"No, Matt. You saw her. You heard her saying how much she hates Benoit. Then, just moments later, she's up there getting him the win. She raises his hand in victory and then they've got their arms around each other as they go up the ramp. There's no doctoring that, Matt. She's…I don't know what she's trying to do."

"Maybe there's a reason," Matt replied. "Maybe we should let her explain before we convict her."

Jeff shook his head slowly. "She knows just how to play me. She knows I'll do anything for her. Every time I confront her about anything she knows all she has to do is kiss me and look at me with those eyes and I'm hers. I just…I don't get it, Matt. I mean, how much do we know about her, really? Even Lita has hardly seen her in ten years. She might have been in cahoots with Benoit all along. They screwed over the Radicalz already; maybe we're next. We have the tag titles now, Matt. Maybe they'll come out as the next members of Team X-Pac like Albert did on Monday."

"Geez, Jeff," Matt sighed. "Is that really what you think?"

Jeff shrugged. "I don't know what I think. All I know is…I really can't see her right now. Otherwise, she'll fool me again. And I'll let her, I know I will. I can't see her anymore, Matt. I can't."

"I'm here for you, little brother," Matt told him, giving him a manly hug. "I'm here for you."

* * * *

"See you tomorrow, Steve," Angel sighed, climbing out of the ring. 

The training session had been going fine…until Blackman decided to give Angel the wrestling lessons she used to get with Al Snow. They had been an absolute disaster, with Blackman almost dropping Angel on her head and Angel grabbing Blackman in a bungled legdrag takedown, which ended with his head only an inch or so from the ring post. It couldn't continue – they both knew it.

Angel walked unsteadily over to Benoit, who had been watching the whole scene with an amused look on his face.

"He's even worse than Snow," he muttered as Angel reached him.

"Shut up," Angel snapped.

"Next time you'll probably kill each other."

"There won't be a next time."

"Oh no? Then you still need a coach."

"No kidding," Angel scowled.

"How about me?" Benoit asked.

"Go root yourself."

"You won't get a better teacher than me."

Angel glared at him and spoke through her teeth. "Not even if you were the last damn technical wrestler on earth."

Benoit smirked. "Your choice."

They walked silently through the gym with Angel fuming so much she almost didn't see him. Almost.

He was lying on a bench, lifting a barbell as his brother spotted him.

"Hi Jeff!" she cried as Matt returned the barbell to its holder and Jeff sat up warily.

Angel climbed into his lap and pulled him in for a kiss. Frowning, Jeff was the first to break away.

"Angel," he said slowly. "I think I need to talk to you about something."

"Good," Angel smiled, staring at him adoringly and playing with his face. "Me too. But you go first, okay?"

Jeff nodded. "Angel," he said again, grabbing her hand and pulling it from his face. He couldn't look at her and decided to speak before he lost the nerve. "I think we should cool things down for a while."

Angel froze. "You're kidding, right?"

Jeff shook his head. "No, I'm not."

Angel frowned at him. "I thought things were going great. I thought _we_ were great."

Jeff sighed and leaned back onto the bench. Angel took her opportunity and grabbed fistfuls of Jeff's shirt, pulling him back up into a heated kiss.

It took Jeff a few seconds to pull away, but when he did, he was pissed off. "I'm serious, Angel. Would you just listen to me for a while?"

Angel blinked. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Jeff lied. "I just…I have to be selfish for once. Me and Matt finally have the titles again and we're coming up to Wrestlemania. That's the biggest night of the year. We need to keep them past then, as long as we can. That means no distractions."

"I'm a distraction?"

"A big one," Jeff sighed.

"The titles," Angel repeated. "The damn titles." She got to her feet. "You know what? Screw your titles, Jeff. And screw you, too. Yeah, Jeff. We can cool things off. It's not as though I ever see you anyway, even though I'm supposedly your girlfriend. That's why I have to kiss you in the middle of a crowded gym!" By now she was shouting. She turned around, glaring at everyone as they stared back at her. "Yeah, I know you can hear me. Stare, go ahead. I don't care anymore." With that, she stormed out of the room, followed by Benoit.

"Well, that was unfortunate," he told her.

She spun to face him, furiously wiping away tears. "Just go to hell, Benoit. I've had enough of all of you."

Benoit just shrugged and followed her to the elevator.

Angel finally looked at him as they reached their floor. "Benoit. If I was to say titles or people, what would your answer be?"

"Titles," Benoit replied without hesitation.

Angel nodded slowly. "That's what I thought. And if I asked Molly or Crash or Blackman?"

"Titles," Benoit said again.

"So, what are people for?"

"Two things. They're either helping you get a title or they're stopping you."

Angel nodded thoughtfully. "Thanks, Benoit. I think you actually helped."

"Miracle of miracles," Benoit muttered, reaching for his key.

* * * *

Angel hid out in her room all day, except for when Benoit called her out for lunch. She was glad he'd ordered in room service. After the scene in the gym she really didn't feel very public. 

Benoit didn't have a match that night. After beating Eddie Guerrero, he's earned a well-deserved night off. He didn't quite see it that way; if it was a perfect world he'd be in combat every night. Neither of them were in a good mood as they ate, and when Angel immediately returned to her room, he didn't even feel like arguing.

They went through the same drill at dinner and Benoit was about to go ask her if she was going to watch Smackdown, when she appeared.

"I need the keys to the rental car," she said coolly.

Benoit frowned at her. "Why?"

"I'm going to the arena. I'm going to fix things. I want to be with Jeff and he wants to be with me, too. I know he does. So I'm going to make it better."

"You're wasting your time," Benoit warned her.

Angel glared at him. "Just shut up and give me the keys."

Benoit raised his eyebrows and closed his hand over the keys. "If you go, I go too."

Exasperated, Angel threw her hands onto her hips. "Fine, jerk. If you're coming, come. If you're not, give me the damn keys."

Benoit flipped the keys between his fingers. "Then let's go."

* * * *

The match had already started when they reached the backstage area.

"Princess, you're too late. It's probably over."

"No," Angel snapped. "I have to help them win their title match."

"It's not a title match," Benoit informed her.

"It's not?"

"No."

Angel's frown was dynamic as she processed this. "I don't care. I need to show Jeff I'm a help, not a distraction. You wait here, I'll be right back."

Benoit shrugged and stood by the curtain, shooting intimidating glances at anyone who looked like they might challenge him. Screw the night off – this was where the action was. 

By the time Angel reached the bottom of the ramp, Albert had just lifted Matt for the Baldo Bomb.

"Over here, metal man!" Angel cried.

Albert turned slowly as Angel leaped for the dropkick to the head. Unfortunately, Albert was about six foot eight and a dropkick to the chest didn't have the same impact. He barely took a single step backwards as she fell to the canvas. Just then, Jeff used the ropes for a Whisper In The Wind but, because Albert had stepped back, he hit Angel instead.

"Angel? What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm trying to help," a dazed Angel replied as she reached for her sticks. She swung them hard, trying to take out Albert's knees, but he seemed to barely feel it, picking her up and dumping her unceremoniously from the ring.

"Son of a bitch," Jeff muttered, glaring at Albert as he found his feet and went for some momentum off the ropes. "Come on!" he cried, beckoning the big man as he hurtled towards him. Albert simply grabbed him and held him over his head.

"No!" Jeff shouted. "No!"

But there was no stopping Albert as he threw Jeff through the air and onto Angel again.

Like Monday, Benoit was down there in a flash. He shoved Jeff away and glared down at Angel. "Get up. Get your ass up."

Holding her head, Angel tried to move but didn't get very far.

"I'm not carrying you today. Get up."

Eyes still closed, Angel grabbed for Jeff with one hand while she raised the other to give Benoit the finger.

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "Oh, really? Well, in that case…" He reached down, picked her up, put her over his shoulder and walked back up the ramp. "I thought you didn't like this."

"It's the only way to travel," Angel replied sourly. "Now, can you take me to the trainer's room so I can find out why I can't walk?"

"Trainer's room's for pussies," Benoit informed her.

"Then me-frigging-ow," Angel spat.

Benoit simply smirked and carried her where she wanted to go.

* * * *

Someone had just started rubbing down Angel's back when Jeff appeared, being supported by Matt and Lita.

"Here," he scowled, reaching out and handing Benoit the sticks. "They belong to her."

"Jeff," Angel said, trying to turn and look at him. "Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not," Jeff snapped. "You got us disqualified, Angel."

Angel frowned. "I was trying to help you."

"Help me?' Jeff cried. "That's a joke. They only way you possibly helped me was by breaking my fall. You shouldn't have been out there at all."

"I was trying to stop Albert…"

"He was in the match!" Jeff exclaimed. "He was supposed to be in the ring. You weren't. Look at Lita, she knows when to stay out of the ring."

"God, Jeff, just forget it," Angel sighed, painfully getting up. "Let's go back to the hotel," she told Benoit. "So much for trying to help."

Benoit just nodded and followed her from the room.

"That was a little mean, Jeff," Lita announced.

Jeff shrugged. "Oh well."

"What happened between you two?" Lita continued. "I thought you were into each other."

"One of us was," Jeff sighed. "The other is Chris Benoit's partner in crime."

"That's not her fault, Jeff. Don't you believe that?"  
"I just don't trust her anymore," Jeff said quietly.

"Why not? What did she do?"

"When we get back to the hotel I'll show you the tape."

"The tape? Someone sent you a tape and now you break it off with Angel? I don't know who sent it to you, Jeff, but I think they were trying to fool you. Angel's my cousin. I'll vouch for her. I promise you, Jeff, what she says is the truth. Just listen to her."

Jeff shook his head. "It's just too much, Lita. I've had enough."

Lita put her hands on her hips and stared right into his eyes. "If you want to be with her, nothing should be too much, Jeff. It's always worth it. Think about it, okay?"

And then she turned to Matt, hugging him tight as Jeff looked on, shaking his head again.


	27. Changes Of Heart

Title: Changes Of Heart

Rating: PG-13 for violence and some angst

Spoilers: Chris Benoit vs Haku on the date given. Again, the ending is slightly changed.

Disclaimer: I don't own Chris Benoit, Haku, Matt or Jeff Hardy or Lita. If I did I'd have a lot of fun laughing at Haku's hair.

Summary: Jeff snaps, but so does Angel

SUNDAY NIGHT HEAT, MARCH 18TH, 2001

Matt, Jeff and Lita sat around a table in the hotel, playing poker. Jeff was sitting across from Lita and they stared at each other intensely, both without expression.

Suddenly, Jeff snapped and slammed his cards down. "Fine, Lita. You win. I'll go talk to her."

"Okay," Lita replied slowly.

"You're right, okay? You're right. I care about her. But this is the last time."

Lita smiled at him. "You won't regret it, Jeff."

"Yeah, I hope not," Jeff mused. "So, where is she now? If I was Chris Benoit, where would I hide?"

"The arena," Matt and Lita said together.

"Right," Jeff agreed. "I guess I'll see you later." He picked up the key and left the room.

Matt and Lita stared at each other for a while. At the same time, their hands snaked down and slammed onto Jeff's cards.

"Okay, you do it," Matt laughed.

Lita smiled back at him and uncovered the cards. "Oh, I don't believe it."

Matt took a look. "The little jerk won the round."

Lita grinned, then reached for the money in the middle. She divided it in two and gave half to Matt. "Not anymore."

Matt smiled back at her. "I guess we'll thank Angel later."

* * * *

A messenger arrived at the locker room with something for Benoit. He took it and immediately turned to Angel. "Your costume's here. Put it on."

"My what?"

"Your costume. You're my valet. It's time you started dressing like it."

Angel formed her scowl. "Show me."

Benoit unfolded the piece of clothing. It was a tiny tube top with the words 'Prove Me Wrong' printed across it.

Angel shook her head slowly. "No. I won't wear that."

"Yes, you will."

"No. I'd rather go topless."

Benoit shrugged. "If that's what you want."

Glaring at him, Angel grabbed the top away and walked silently behind the screen in the locker room. When she was dressed, she stepped out in front of a full-length mirror and examined her reflection expressionlessly.

"Good seamstress," she said at last. "Shame about the slogan."

"So it passes the test?" Benoit asked.

"No, it doesn't. But I guess I have to wear it."

Benoit smirked. "Okay. Then we're ready to go."

Angel nodded and followed him from the room. "You're just damn lucky I look hot in it. Otherwise I would go topless."

* * * *

'Shooter' played and they made their entrance, then waited in the ring for Benoit's opponent to arrive. When he did, Angel turned back to Benoit. 

"You didn't tell me you were facing Broccoli Boy."

Benoit was focused on Haku. "You didn't ask. Why, is he a friend of yours?"

"No. That means I'll enjoy watching the two of you kicking the crap out of each other. More than usual, that is." With that, she rolled from the ring.

Something was different. It was almost as though the spirit of the 'Prove Me Wrong' tube top had possessed her. She cringed when Haku scored a takedown and nodded approval when it was Benoit's turn. She even caught herself almost applauding after the typical trio of German suplexes. When Benoit missed his flying headbutt she actually clawed at the apron as Haku took the advantage. Finally, after a reversed clothesline, Benoit locked on the crossface and Haku tapped out.

Angel climbed into the ring next to Benoit and nodded at him. She couldn't explain it, but there it was. He'd just won a match against a man Angel hated no more than Benoit, and yet she was glad. She stared at him in utter bewilderment as he smirked back at her. It was almost as though he could hear her thoughts. Benoit rolled from the ring and Angel thought about following him, but he was back in a minute and he had a chair.

"Here," he said coolly, handing it to Angel and looking over at Haku's fallen body. "I know you want to."

"What?" Angel asked with a frown.

"That Tongan Death Grip on your friends a few weeks ago. I know you want revenge."

Angel's mouth dropped open as she remembered. How did Benoit know about that?

"I watch everyone's matches," he explained before she could ask. "That way I know exactly where to beat them. Now, hit him." He let go of the chair so Angel now held it alone. "Hit him."

As if in a trance, Angel peered down at Haku as Benoit made sure the ref didn't interfere. Groaning, Haku looked back at her and spotted the chair. He exclaimed something in Tongan, but Angel was staring at his eyes. He looked so scared. Scared of a girl with a chair.

"Hit him."

Haku couldn't get up. The crossface had injured him badly. He needed medical attention.

"Hit him!"

Haku had knocked Matt and Jeff out using his bare hands, and yet here he lay, just as helpless as they had been. He might not have been Angel's friend, but he was still a man. Angel slowly turned back to Benoit. 

"No."

"I said hit him!"

"No," she repeated, even more emphatically.

"Do it!"

"No!" They were both getting louder. Benoit's face was red and the veins in his neck bulged. 

"I told you to do it!"

"No!"

"Little girl…"

"NO!" Angel screamed.

At that moment, someone grabbed her by the arm. By the time he said her name and the voice registered, it was too late. At his touch, she immediately spun and the chair cracked across his skull. He fell to the canvas with a sickening thus and did not move. Angel immediately dropped the chair and it bounced off his head. She stood over his body, not knowing quite what to do. It wasn't Haku, of course. It was Jeff. 

She just stood there, staring down at him, unable to move, unable to speak. She was in shock. She was hyperventilating. And then Benoit was carrying her away and she was letting him, because of the power of what she'd down. She'd hurt Jeff, hurt him real bad. And this time, there was no excuse. She'd meant to hit him, and she had.

******************************************************************************************

A/N: Good place to stop, non? Hehe, I don't speak French. But anyway, I thought it was a good place to stop.


	28. Outcasts

Title: Outcasts

Rating: PG-13 for violence, language, adult themes and angst

Spoilers: For the date given

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, except for Angel

Summary: And so the fallout…(did that even make sense?)

A/N- Thanks so much for the reviews guys. They make me one happy girl *smiles* see? Andraste, your reviews freakin' rock, but if you think you've got tension, you ain't seen nothing yet. lol

RAW IS WAR, MARCH 19TH, 2001

Angel had been a mess all day, after not sleeping a wink the night before. She hadn't been able to concentrate in weapons training with Blackman and didn't even bother provoking Benoit, although she was starting to work out how to get at him.

Straight after training, she convinced Benoit to head over to the arena so she could intercept Jeff as soon as he arrived. She kept staking out the locker room but so far without success. In between, she and Benoit ate lunch and got ready, although Benoit's match was yet to be set. Angel had a feeling he was hoping for Eddie again, as if he still had to prove himself. She looked over at him as he stared into space, the thoughts rushing through his mind at an incredible speed. Just one look at his face told her that.

"Do you think they're here yet?" she asked suddenly.

Benoit slowly shifted his gaze to her. "They're fools if they're not. They have a title defense."

Angel nodded. "I'm gonna go…I'll be back."

As she knew he would, Benoit got up and followed her from the room.

Angel breathed deeply as she walked down the hall. She didn't know what she was going to say, all she knew was that she had to make things right. 

She reached the door to the locker room and psyched herself up. Ordinarily she would have walked right in, but there was nothing ordinary about her current circumstances. So she knocked and waited. 

Jeff opened the door, took one look at her and started to close it again, but Angel had been prepared for that and got her boot in the way.

"Please, Jeff," she said urgently. "Let me explain."

"I have nothing to say to you," Jeff replied coldly.

"Tell me how to fix it," Angel pleaded. "Tell me how to make it right. I'm so, so sorry."

"I don't believe you anymore," Jeff sighed. "You're not who I thought you were."

"I am, Jeff. If you'd just…"

"No," Jeff cut in. "It's over, Angel. It's all over. I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to look at you, I don't even want to breathe the same air as you. Not now. Not anymore."

His words stung her. If he'd slapped her across the face it couldn't have hurt more. She took a step backwards, trying to recover, when the door slammed shut in her face.

She stared at it for a few seconds. Over? It couldn't be over. She hadn't even had the chance to explain. If only they'd just…

The handle slid around. The door wasn't locked. Taking a deep breath, she stepped into the locker room.

"Jeff, it was an accident. You have to believe me."

Jeff, Matt and Lita stood in a tight little group, their faces stormy. Lita slowly shook her head. 

"How could you do that, Angel? How could you?"

"No, Lita. It was an accident…"

"Don't lie to me!" Lita cried. "And to think I vouched for you. I trusted you and look what you did in return."

"Lita, please. Just listen to me."

"No, you listen to me. You've hurt us enough, Angel, especially Jeff. We're not going to take it anymore."

"Why are you doing this, Lita?" Angel asked quietly.

"Why am _I _do doing this? After what you did, I don't even want to look at you."

Angel tearfully turned to the only person who hadn't yelled at her. "Matt?"

Matt stared back at her coolly. "I think Jeff and Lita have said enough."

Angel shook her head as her face crumpled even more. "After all that's happened, I thought you guys would stick by me."

"Well, that's what we thought about you," Lita snapped. "But I guess, as your bosom buddy Benoit would say, you proved us wrong. Now, I want you to leave."

"Why, Lita? You're my cousin. You're family."

Lita's glare was intense. "Yeah, we're cousins, I can't change that, but you've shown me something the past few weeks with what you've done to Jeff. We're not family, Angel. Matt and Jeff are my family. They're always there for me, and me for them. You're just another person, getting in the way. If you're not with us, you're against us."

"But I'm…"

"Get out," Jeff interrupted her.

She looked up at him, sadly shaking her head.

"Get out!"

Numb all over, Angel turned and silently left the room, shutting the door after herself.

Benoit was waiting in the hallway.

"I heard shouting," he said simply.

Angel stared at him as the tears streamed down her cheeks. There was no compassion in his voice whatsoever, but he was there. He was solid and she needed that, otherwise her emotions could force her to her knees. Without a word, she stepped right up to Benoit and threw her arms around his neck as sobs wracked her body. Benoit didn't return the hug but he did stand there, letting her hold him as her tears drenched his T-shirt.

Across the hall, unheard by Angel, the door to the locker room opened and there stood Jeff. Benoit simply stared at him enigmatically. Jeff scowled and, with a shake of his head, stepped back inside and shut the door again.

* * * *

Angel was an absolute wreck. Benoit didn't know how long she'd been crying but it seemed like hours. She showed no signs of calming down and he'd had just about all he could take.

"That's enough," he announced gruffly. "Shut up."

Angel unfolded her body just enough to give him the finger. "Leave me alone."

"I mean it!" Benoit told her. "They kicked you out. Why are you crying for them?"

Angel looked up tearfully. "You don't understand."

"Oh no, not at all," Benoit replied sarcastically. "Maybe you don't remember Eddie, Dean and Perry."

"That's different. They were friends. Lita's family."

Benoit was scowling at her. "The Radicalz were my family. They were my brothers. We came in here together and we were unstoppable. I thought it'd always be that way. Then we broke up for a while but when I got us back together we were better than ever. We might not have been related, but we were definitely family. So, don't tell me I don't know what I'm talking about."

Angel shook her head slowly. "You didn't hear them. You didn't hear what they said."

"I don't care what they said. You don't need them. You think I wasted my time crying about the past when the Radicalz ousted me? No. I concentrated on the future, on becoming the WWF champion. Friends are fine. They serve their purpose. But only you can look after you."

Angel stared at him for a long time as her face ran the gamut of emotions.

"You're absolutely right," she said at last.

"They kicked _you_ out," Benoit said again.

Angel nodded and swallowed hard. "Titles or people?"

"Titles," Benoit replied with certainty.

"Titles," Angel repeated. She stared at him carefully and it was some time before she spoke. "I want you to coach me."

Benoit raised his eyebrows, so she decided to explain.

"I'm here for a reason. And you're right. It's not about how many friends I have. It's about getting my contract and beating who I want to beat. Now it's about more. I want a title, Benoit. I want to be the women's champion. Tell me honestly. You've seen me train. Am I good enough to get there?"

Benoit stared at her expressionlessly. "I wouldn't have offered if you weren't."

Angel nodded. She still hated him, as much as ever, but she'd been around long enough to know that his claims of being the greatest technical wrestler in the WWF weren't just a catchphrase. Benoit was good, possibly the best, easily the best person who'd offered to coach her.

"If you coach me, what do you want in return?"

Benoit was surprised. 

"Don't give me that look. Nothing comes for nothing. What do you want?"

"Manage me." The words were out of Benoit's mouth before he was even aware of them.

"Manage you? You mean like Debra and the Rock?"

"Well, I hope you'd do a better job than her."

"Manager," Angel mused. "You mean keeping my valet duties, but what else?"

"You make my matches. You _manage_ my career. Do you understand?"

Angel gave him a sarcastic smile. "I'm a terrible valet. What makes you think I'd be a good manager?"

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "Why don't we give you a little test? I don't have a match yet for tonight. Why don't you go see Commissioner Regal and get me the best match you can _manage_? If I approve, we have a deal."

Angel nodded slowly. "A challenge. Who do you want? Eddie again?"

Benoit simply shrugged. "Get me the best match you can. Then we'll see if it's what I want."

Angel fixed her gaze. She knew this was more than just a test of her managerial qualities. If she got a good match, she'd have something over Benoit; she'd have some form of control over his life when it seemed that he was increasingly controlling hers. Even for that alone, it would be worth it.

"Okay," she nodded coolly. "Consider it done."

* * * *

"Commissioner Regal?" Angel questioned. Now that she was here, she was less than confident. Possibly for the first time, she was happy that Al Snow had lost his match for the commissionership. At least Regal didn't know her; she had some chance of winning him over. She was very conscious of her outfit – tube top, leather pants, wrestling boots, and was never more aware that it was a man's world. What the hell did she think she was doing?

"Hello, my dear," Regal replied with his British accent, favoring her with a smile. "What can I do for you?"

Angel was all business. "I'm Chris Benoit's manager and I can't help noticing…"

"Wait one moment," Regal cut in. "Did you just say 'cahn't'?"

"Yes," Angel replied slowly.

"Well, you're not American."

"No, I'm not, but I'm here about Chris Benoit and I really think…"

"Yes, yes, of course," Regal rushed on. "Tell me, my dear girl. What is the last letter of the alphabet?"

"Zed," Angel replied with a confused frown.

"That's right! Now, you were saying?"

Angel took a deep breath. "I think that Chris Benoit has more than proven himself and…"

"Well, I'll be a month of Sundays," Regal mused. "You're Australian."

Angel nodded impatiently. "Yeah, I am but…"

"And her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II is your revered head of state, correct?"

"Yes, she is, but…"

"Well, that is delightful. My dear, do you fancy a spot of tea?"

Angel frowned at the silver tea set. "Thanks anyway, but I like to watch my caffeine intake."

"Of course. You don't mind if I partake?"

Angel waved him on. "Go ahead. Now, about Chris Benoit…"

"My, but that is good tea," Regal announced after taking a sip. "Tell me, my dear. Other than wrestling, what is your favorite sport?"

"Um, cricket. But…"

"Sensational! And speaking of which, how does one spell 'favourite'?"

Angel shook her head. "F-A-V-O-U-R…"

"Say no more. You are certainly a delightful young lady."

"Thank you, but I'm sorry if I don't think that's the point."

"My dear, it is very much the point. I can tell you're in quite a hurry and I'm a busy man myself, so perhaps you should tell me what it is you want."

"I'm Chris Benoit's manager and I want you to give him a match with the Rock."

"The Rock," Regal repeated. "The WWF Champion?"

Angel's nod held a lot more conviction than she really felt. "The Rock."

Regal mirrored her nod, smiling thoughtfully. Finally, he spoke. "Young lady, not only will I grant your request, but I will even make it easier for your client to be victorious."

Angel frowned at him so he continued.

"What I have in mind is a handicap match. The Rock versus both Chris Benoit and former WWF Champion Kurt Angle."

"Benoit and Angle versus Rock?" Angel repeated.

"I trust that this is satisfactory?" Regal asked.

Angel nodded slowly. "Will it be the main event?"

"Oh, without a doubt."

Angel broke into a broad smile. "Thank you. Thank you very much. It was a pleasure doing business with you." She shook his hand brusquely.

"No, my dear girl, the pleasure is all mine."

Angel gave him one more smile before leaving the office. 

Regal watched her go, picking up his tea again.

"An Australian," he mused. "Not a Brit. by any means, but anything is better than an American."

* * * *

Angel shrugged outlandishly as she returned to the locker room. "I'm sorry. I did my best."

"What did you get?" Benoit asked, frowning at her.

"I tried," Angel sighed.

"Tell me!" Benoit demanded.

"Okay, okay, it's a handicap match."

Benoit's frown deepened as it sunk in. "Who are my opponents? Eddie and Dean? Dean and Perry? All three, perhaps?"

Angel shook her head. "No Radicalz."

"Who then?" 

Angel took a deep breath. "You and Kurt Angle will be taking on the Rock."

Benoit was stunned. "Me and Angle against the Rock?"

Now it was Angel's turn to smirk. "That's right. How _does_ the main event grab you?"

"Main event," Benoit repeated. "Me and Angle against the Rock. How did you do that? I mean, yesterday I had Haku!"

Angel simply shrugged. "I guess I'm a decent manager after all, huh?"  
Benoit nodded slowly, all expression gone from his face. "Training starts tomorrow. Six AM sharp. I will _not_ go easy on you."

Angel glared at him. "Well, gee, asshole. You're welcome."

* * * *

"Turn that damn TV off," Angel spat.

Benoit backed away and spun around accusingly. "You don't like it, leave."

"Oh, and where would I go?" Angel demanded. "It's not as though I have any friends to hang with."

Benoit ignored her. "We watch Raw here. That's what we do."

Angel bounced to her feet. "Never, ever speak for me again, okay? _We_ don't do anything." She started for the door as Benoit looked on.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"For a walk. Watch your damn show. I really don't give a crap."

* * * *

Angel walked the halls alone. She felt invisible in the way no one glanced at her twice and knew that it was only the case because she'd come through in the deal she'd had with Vince. Now, having lost Matt, having lost Al Snow, having lost Jeff, having lost Lita, she was beginning to wonder whether it was all worth it. She'd gotten herself into one hell of a situation. It was the definition of the word irony that the man she hated more than anyone, except perhaps Steven Richards and Eddie Guerrero, was now the only one she could trust. It made her sick to her stomach just thinking about it and despite all her efforts, she was still no closer to finding a way out. Now she was his manager. She actually enjoyed that fact more than she thought she would. Benoit needed her. Just as she needed him to pay her bills, she was now responsible for his. Competing was everything to Benoit but now, without Angel, there would be no matches. It was an interesting situation to say the least.

Angel looked up, and up, and up, into the face of a person who was approaching from the other direction, obviously headed towards the ring. It was the Big Show, the hardcore champion. Angel was fascinated with everyone who was successful in that division, just as she always had been. She wanted to be a part of that action, even if, as Jeff had once told her, it was never going to happen. Big Show looked down at her as they approached each other. Angel simply held his gaze and gave a nod and a half-smile as they passed, then both calmly continued on their way.

"Seven foot monster my ass," she muttered, hoping he wouldn't hear her. 

The next person she came across also seemed to be headed for the ring. He was singing loudly to himself and pushing a grocery cart, which was loaded with various props, including trashcans and a pot plant.

Just as she had with Big Show, Angel held his gaze. In fact, she stepped up on the front of the cart. "Where's your ninja?"

He frowned and tried to shake her off. "Do I even know you?"

Angel leaned forward so, if he wanted to, he could look right down her top. "No, Raven, you don't. The question is, do you _want_ to know me?"

He took the bait, as she'd known he would.

"What's your name?" he asked warily.

Angel shrugged dramatically and leaped over the pot plant onto more of the debris. She stood carefully, hoping it wouldn't give way, then put her hands on her hips as he continued to push the cart and stare at her.

"My name is Angel," she replied, before slowly turning around. She raised her hands above her head and leaped from the moving cart in a modified moonsault. She landed it facing Raven's back. "And I'll see you later."

Raven spun quickly, giving her a surprised frown.

"Good luck out there," Angel smiled as Raven's eyes traveled the length of her body.

"Luck? I don't need no luck. You think I can't beat that guy?"

Angel shrugged again. "I'm just saying he's a big son of a bitch."

"He is, but I'm not so small myself, if you know what I mean."

Angel nodded. "You better get out there. Show me what you can do."

"I will," Raven replied. "I'll see you later."

"Bye-bye, birdie," Angel murmured, turning and continuing on her way, knowing that if she turned back, Raven would be checking out her ass. Men. Some of them were so easy. So what if things with Tim and Jeff were over and she had a bizarre living situation with a man she hated? That didn't mean she couldn't have some fun.

Angel stopped in the catering area to make herself a coffee. She hadn't been lying when she'd told Regal she was watching her caffeine intake. Benoit would just about have kittens if he caught her drinking coffee. But right now she was free and freedom meant coffee.

"Come to me, nectar of the gods," she murmured, taking her first sip. She sighed happily. Who knew instant coffee could be so good?

She just stood there, contentedly sipping, until she was disturbed by a commotion across the room from her. Some WWF employees and the women in particular were whispering and falling over themselves in the strangest fashion. Just then, the source of the commotion came striding through the room. He was tall, probably late twenties or early thirties, with dark hair and eyes. He was wearing a turtleneck and slacks and was carrying a clipboard. Angel sipped her coffee and watched him, as did everyone else in the room, but she was the only one sporting a frown.

He wasn't extraordinarily good-looking, but had an aura about him that commanded attention. Although Angel was positive they'd never met, there was something undeniably familiar about his face, which meant she couldn't take her eyes off him. Maybe he was a movie star – the WWF attracted its fair share of those. Suddenly, he was almost upon her and she was forced to stop her thoughts. She cocked her head and frowned at him slightly as he passed, not even sparing her a single glance. Then, after continuing his strong, confident walk to the hallway, he was gone.

Angel shook her head as the room returned to normal. He must have known he had everyone's attention and yet he didn't even acknowledge a single person, as though he was in his own little world. Shrugging, Angel headed over to the group of women on the premise of disposing of her coffee cup, even though she'd been standing right next to a garbage can.

"Who _was_ that guy?" she asked the nearest person.

"You mean you don't know?" the woman asked incredulously. "That was Shane."

"Oh, right, Shane," Angel smiled, although she still had no idea. "I just hadn't seen him in so long I forgot what he looked like."

"I could never forget Shane," the woman sighed. "I'm so happy he's back."

"He's something, alright," Angel agreed, making her retreat. She rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, "That's why I don't have many chick friends."

She decided to continue her wanderings, although she'd been gone nearly half an hour. Hey, maybe she'd run into Shane again.

It was actually a long time before she ran into anyone, but finally she saw some people she knew. Edge, Christian and another, shorter, bulkier man were headed quickly towards her, talking and joking.

"Hey Edge," she smiled, but the three of them passed her without even noticing.

"Well, they seem happy," she smiled, turning to watch them leave. She was glad. Despite what Matt and Jeff thought, Edge was a cool guy. Still, the fact he'd ignored her had upset her slightly and she could no longer deny the fact that she was bored. It was time to go back to the locker room. She headed off, hoping she'd missed the painful experience of watching Matt and Jeff's match.

* * * *

"Enjoy your walk?" Benoit asked testily.

Angel nodded coolly and sat down on the bench, focusing on the TV, where Steve Blackman and Grandmaster Sexay were taking on Team X-Pac.

"Yeah, I did. I even made some new friends. Raven wants to do me." She looked over to gauge Benoit's reaction, but if he cared, he didn't show it.

"Your friends lost," he informed her.

Angel turned back to the TV. "But it's not over yet."

"No, not them," Benoit muttered. "Maybe I should have said 'former friends'."

"Matt and Jeff lost the titles?" Angel asked.

"Bingo."

Angel frowned. "Well, um…I guess the Dudleyz were the better team after all."

Benoit shook his head. "It wasn't the Dudleyz."

"It wasn't? Who, then?"  
"Edge and Christian."

"Serious? Wow. That explains why they were in such a good mood." She broke off and nodded to herself for a while. "You know what? I think that's great. Edge has always been nice to me, which is more than I can now say for Matt and Jeff. That's great."

Benoit said nothing. He was focused on the TV again.

Angel's attention switched between it and him. She still had one unanswered question. 

"Hey, Benoit."

"What?"

"Who's Shane?"  
Benoit didn't take his eyes off the TV. "Shane Helms is a wrestler where I used to work."

"Shane Helmsley," Angel repeated. "Is he related to Triple H?" That might explain why he looked familiar.

Benoit stared at her as though she was a complete idiot. "Not Helmsley, Helms."

Angel nodded thoughtfully. "Tall guy, dark hair, favors turtlenecks. I saw him in the hall just before."

Understanding finally crossed Benoit's face. "You mean Shane McMahon. The prodigal son."

"McMahon," Angel repeated, eyes wide.

"Don't even think about it, Princess. He is way, way out of your league."

Angel glared at him. "I didn't say I wanted to get in his pants. I just wanted to know who he is."

"I don't even think _he_ knows who he is after Triple H kicked his ass tonight," Benoit told her.

"What? Why?"

Benoit simply shrugged. "You just don't cross the boss."

At that moment there was a knock at the door. Benoit was focused on the TV so Angel got up to answer it. "Yes?"  
"Is Chris Benoit in there?"  
"Yeah, he is. Can I ask who's calling?"

"Look, can I see him or not?"

Angel shrugged and opened the door. "Benoit, a very rude former Olympian is here to see you."

"Hey Kurt," Benoit called, finally looking away from the TV. 

Kurt's gaze shifted from Benoit to Angel and back again. "Is that your daughter or something?"  
"Never mind her," Benoit replied. "What's going on, Kurt?"  
Kurt pulled up a chair as Angel perched on the bench and watched them carefully. 

"We need to work together tonight," Kurt started, looking at Angel out the corner of his eye. "Beating the Rock takes a lot of…oh, for Pete's sake, does she have to be here?"

"Yes, she does," Benoit replied. 

"I'm his manager," Angel added. "I'm making sure you don't screw him over. That's _my_ job."

Kurt's frown deepened. "Your job's to screw him over?"

Angel stared at him incredulously. "No, my job's to manage him. How paranoid are you?"  
Kurt frowned and tore his eyes away from her. "I'm not paranoid," he said sulkily, before starting his spiel again. "Now, Chris, I know you haven't met the Rock as many times as I have, so I thought I'd tell you all I've learned…"

"This shouldn't take long," Angel murmured.

Kurt spun and glared at her. "What was that?"

Angel's face was the picture of concern. "I didn't say anything. Maybe you really _are_ paranoid."

Shaking his head, Kurt turned back to Benoit. "Chris, is there any way…"

"No," Benoit replied. "She stays." He shot a threatening glance at Angel, but she ignored it, preferring to keep her focus on Kurt. She stared at him intensely, not blinking, and watched him start to sweat as he tried to explain his plan.

"I think what you should to is break him down, then I'll be able to secure my ankle lock for victory. I'll break the Rock's ankle and…"

"What about crossface?" Angel asked suddenly.

Kurt frowned at her uneasily. "What about it?"  
"It's at least as effective as the ankle lock and a lot harder to break. And yet you're proposing that Benoit softens Rocky up so your finisher looks good. He does the work, you take the glory. Isn't that right, Kurt?"

"No, it's not right!" Kurt cried, glancing uncertainly into Benoit's expressionless face. "She's putting words in my mouth."

"I know what she's doing," Benoit murmured, turning to glare at Angel. "And you can cut it out. This isn't a game."

Angel shrugged and leaned back into the wall, swaying her legs slowly. She smiled to herself as Kurt covered up his mistake.

"I like crossface! Crossface is great!"

She decided it was a good time to break into song.

"It's time to play the game," she growled in her best Motorhead voice. "It's time to…"

"Go wait in the hall!" Benoit screamed, making both Angle and Angel jump.

Angel simply smiled charmingly, got to her feet and left the room.

"Where'd you find that girl?" Kurt asked as the door closed.

Benoit shrugged. "Got her in a great deal from the Hardy brothers. But trust me, she's a lot more trouble than she's worth."

"Yeah, I can see," Kurt agreed. "But here's what I think about the match."

* * * *

Angel leaned against the wall in the hallway, perfecting her withering stare. Finally, the door opened and Kurt appeared, so she really got to try it out. He tried not to look at her, but without much success. 

"See you in the ring, Kurt," Angel murmured expressionlessly.

"Yeah, bye," Kurt faltered. He was almost gone when Angel spoke again.

"I'm on to you, Kurt. I know exactly what you're planning."

Kurt spun to face her. "What are you talking about?"

She just stared back at him as if she'd never spoken at all. "I just said we'll kick some ass."

Kurt's frown deepened. "Oh right. Yeah." He shook his head slowly and continued on his way. "That girl is intense!"

Angel smiled after him. She wasn't on to him at all and really didn't give a crap if he was planning anything. She just liked watching him sweat, and of course the added bonus that it pissed Benoit off.

Benoit was waiting when she reentered the locker room.

"I don't know what you think you're playing at, but don't let that happen again."

"Why not? It was fun. He's an idiot. I was letting him know that."

"I don't care if he's an idiot. He's a decent fighter and he's on my team tonight, so you should treat him with some respect."

Angel smirked. "Benoit, I don't even respect you. Why the hell would I respect him?"

* * * *

Angel stood with Benoit, waiting for his entrance music to start. Not long earlier they'd been informed that, while still a handicap match, each team would feature another member. Benoit, Angle, and Commissioner Regal would be taking on the Rock and Chris Jericho. Angel was amazed that a match could be made featuring five men she didn't give a rat's ass about, but it had.

Finally, 'Shooter' hit and they made their way to the ring, to be joined moments later by Kurt Angle. In the ring were four people – the Australian, the Canadian, the American and the Brit. and, at least in theory, they were all on the same page.

Kurt hadn't been in the ring for long when 'J-J-J', a countdown started, and an explosion heralded the arrival of Chris Jericho, the intercontinental champion. He stood on the ramp with a microphone and alluded to the face that he'd urinated in William Regal's tea.

Angel rolled her eyes. "And I thought _I_ was childish," she muttered. 

Jericho continued his speech and then, juniors, it was go time. Well, almost.

"If ya smell what the Rock is cooking!"

Jericho's partner had arrived.

"Good luck, guys," Angel said quietly, before rolling from the ring and taking her place in the corner.

She cheered Regal on as he kicked things off with Jericho, and not just because she wasn't a Y2J fan. If she wanted to control Benoit's career like he controlled her life, it was important to keep the commissioner on side. Unfortunately, to work properly, that also meant cheering on Benoit and Angle. She decided the sacrifice was worth it – especially when their opponents were the two people Jeff had guaranteed would save Angel's ass – so cheer she did. Well, not cheer per se. She wasn't vocal like she'd been when valeting for Hardyz, Hollys, Blackman or Snow, but she did applaud appropriately and tap on the apron to encourage her men when things looked bad.

Angel watched Benoit particularly carefully.

"Training starts tomorrow," ran through her mind. "I will NOT go easy on you."

She shook her head slowly as Jericho's back slammed into the canvas after a particularly vicious suplex. 

"He's going to kill me."

After finally getting the tag, the Rock started to lay the smack down and made the cover on Benoit, only to have it broken by Angle. Angel applauded politely and jumped out of the way as Kurt and Rock battled closer to her.

In the ring, Y2J put Regal in the Walls of Jericho, but Benoit broke it, causing Angel to applaud again. Jericho scored the lionsault, then left Benoit lying in the ring as he and Regal took it outside. Angel stepped up to Benoit.

"Get up, you sack of shit!" she cried, slapping him across the face. "I got you this match. The least you can do is make yourself look like you belong here. Come on."

Benoit glared at her and used the ropes to find his feet.

"Do something!" Angel shouted as Benoit scowled, then broke up an attempted People's Eyebrow on Kurt. The Rock tried to retaliate, but Benoit brought him down and locked on the crossface, right in front of Angel, who smiled smugly and nodded.

"Tap out!" she encouraged the champion as Kurt found his ankle lock. "Tap the hell out or they'll snap you in two!"

The Rock just screamed and tried to battle on.

Suddenly…

"Outta the way, sister!"

Jericho flew into the ring with a huge missile dropkick. It was also deadly accurate, breaking both submission holds.

"Are you crazy?" Angel shouted as Jericho started on Angle and the ref rolled Benoit into the corner and started asking him if he was okay.

"He's fine!" Angel cried. "He just needs to get his ass back up."

"I'm fine," Benoit muttered breathlessly. 

The ref turned back to find that Regal had the cover on Jericho. One…two…three. Angel's team had won. She nodded to herself and prepared to climb into the ring, only to find that the guys weren't done. The three of them started kicking the Rock as Jericho rolled painfully from the ring near Angel. She watched him fall, shrugging indifferently, before walking over to the other corner.

"Hey!" she cried. "The match is over!"

"Naive girl!" Regal called back. "It's not about winning and losing. It's about destroying one's opponent, any way possible."

Angel scowled at them and shook her head.

Suddenly, the sound of smashing glass filled the arena and Stone Cold sprinted down the ramp.

"Yeah, Austin!" Angel cried as he attacked Angle, Rock took down Benoit and Regal vacated the area. Austin went for the Rock, but Angle wanted some more and got a Stunner for his efforts. Rock and Austin cleaned house as Angel cheered the Rattlesnake on. Suddenly, Rock his Austin with a title belt and sent him crashing to the canvas.

Angel's hands flew to her face and just then some shouted words issued from her mouth that she wasn't aware of until they were out. 

"Benoit! Get the Rock! Kick his ass!"

Benoit nodded sadistically and proceeded to do just that, until Rocky ducked a punch and tossed Benoit over the top rope. Angel ran to Benoit's side. "Get up! Kick his ass!"

But Benoit was dazed and taking a while to find his bearings. Angel looked up into the ring, just in time to see Austin get Rock Bottomed. 

"No!" she shrieked as the Rock stood over Austin's body.

Without stopping to think of the consequences, Angel dove into the ring next to Stone Cold.

"Austin? Are you okay?" She knew she was being watching and raised her head to stare into the dark eyes of the Rock. "Why did you do that?" she cried as the Rock moved like a cat, waiting for her to stand. She didn't realize it and began to scramble to her feet. "He's a nice guy. Why did you do it?"

The Rock lunged forward and grabbed her for the Rock Bottom, but she fell out of his grasp and was pulled from the ring by one leg. Benoit stood her on her feet and glared at her, pain and exhaustion glistening on his face.

"Don't be so damn stupid!" he snapped, before turning and starting towards the ramp.

Angel stepped up behind him. "What do you mean? Didn't you see what happened?"

Benoit spun furiously. "What I saw was me saving your ass yet again. So, shut the hell up and let's get out of here."

With Rock in the ring and Benoit in front of her, Angel didn't know who she wanted to scowl at more. Eventually she decided on Benoit which, considering the Rock's mood, was probably the safer choice.


	29. Managerial Qualities

Title: Managerial Qualities

Rating: PG-13 for language, violence, adult themes and mind games, cuz mind games rule!

Spoilers: for the night in question

Summary: Angel's found a new toy, and his name is Kurt Angle.

A/N: Yay, Loser Raven muse, who made his debut in the previous chapter, makes another appearance in this, as does one of my personal favourites, Barely Human Rhyno. Add that to Confused Kurt and my Benny muse, and everything's hunky-dory. Oh yeah, and I know that Rhyno's spear is called a gore, but until a week from now, Angel didn't know that. Make sense?

SMACKDOWN! MARCH 22ND, 2001

Angel sat at a table in the catering area waiting, as she always did for Benoit to get the food. She'd been training with him for three days and was still alive. Actually, for what he'd taught he the only thing she might possibly have died of was boredom. They hadn't been near a ring, with Benoit preferring to teach Angel the theory of all the holds he could think of, and he knew a whole lot of holds. Angel was glad she still had Blackman for weapons training because Benoit's Wrestle Ed. 101 was quickly becoming the class from hell.

Angel sighed restlessly and waited for Benoit to return.

"Oh dude, that is so totally gonna rule!"

Angel's ears pricked up. She knew that voice.

"Edge!"

He stepped up across the table from her and grinned his perfect grin. "Hey dudette. How are things…" He raised his eyebrows. "…Down under?"

Angel couldn't help but smile back. "Not too bad. Hey, I wanted to congratulate you on becoming six time tag team champs."

"Six time former champs," Edge replied, his grin turning to a frown. "Those reekazoids the Dudleyz totally screwed us."

"Yeah," called another voice. "It totally reeked of we had them beat."

Angel peered over her shoulder. "Hey Christian."

Christian barely acknowledged her, he was so fired up about that topic. "And did you see their midget brother Spike? He's totally a dork too. Big dorks so come in small packages."

"Dead dorks," growled a third voice, causing Angel to spin in the other direction. It was Edge and Christian's bulky friend from Raw. He stood slightly hunched over and breathing heavily with his long stringy dark brown hair hanging in his face.

"Um, hi," Angel said nervously as he brought his face only an inch or so away from hers.

"Hi," he replied.

"Edge," Angel said evenly, trying not to lose her cool. "Who is this…um…I wanna say, person?"

"That's Rhyno," Edge grinned. "He's awesome, don't you think?"

"I'm Rhyno," Rhyno repeated disjointedly, still right in Angel's face. "Who are you?"

"I'm…um…I'm…" Angel couldn't think with him panting in her face so she reached out to give him a little push backwards. Rhyno screamed like a wild bull and ran backwards, preparing to charge. Somehow, Edge leaped the table and got in the way with a spear of his own.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" he cried as Christian helped him pull Rhyno back from a very scared Angel. "No, Rhyno, no."

Still breathing heavily, Rhyno turned to look at Edge.

"No," he repeated.

"That's right," Edge said calmly. "We don't attack her. She's not a Dudley."

"No. Not a Dudley. Who is she?"  
"She's Angel," Edge explained. "She's my friend."

Rhyno nodded rapidly. "Angel," he repeated, turning to face her again and offering his hand. "Angel…friend?"

Angel's eyes were wide as she tentatively shook his hand. "Hi Rhyno. Pleased to meet you."

Rhyno broke into a broad, psychotic grin. "Hi."

"There we go," Edge smiled. "We're all friends now. Okay, Rhyno. Let go now. Let go of her hand."

Rhyno finally released Angel's hand and she wiggled the fingers to be sure they weren't broken.

"Angel's my friend too," he grinned at Edge. 

"That's right, she is. Christian, I think you so know what time it is." He reached into his jacket and handed his brother a small bottle of pills.

"Oh, that's right," Christian agreed. "Come on, Rhyno. You wanna 'Do The Dew' or the 'Choice of a totally New Generation'?"

"I have to go," Rhyno said to Angel. "I'll see you."

Angel nodded weakly as Christian and Rhyno left. She could hear Christian talking.

"Dude, that spear thing is awesome. You see that guy over there carrying the tray of plates? You think you could spear him?"

"So?" Edge asked, spreading his arms as the sound of smashing glass filled the air (and for once didn't signal the arrival of Stone Cold). "What do you think?"

Angel didn't know quite what to say. "He's…" she faltered. "He's…"

"I know," Edge grinned. "He's like the most B-R-utal thing ever. Anyway, Angel face. I heard you're totally putting the X in Team eXtreme. As in 'X-cuse me, I'd totally like to X-it and become an X-member'."

Angel nodded. "That's true. They kicked me out."

Edge frowned. "Well, they're a prime group of dorkburgers dripping with extra sucktitude. You don't need those losers anyway."

Angel shrugged. "I'm over it."

Edge grinned. "Well, that is X-cellent. What are you doing with your brutally awesome self now?"

"I'm managing Chris Benoit."

Edge seemed surprised. "Well, that rules. He's like the Crippler, the Rabid Wolverine, the Master of the Crossface, the…oh, listen, dudette, I gotta go. I think Rhyno's so trying to kill that security guard. I'll totally catch you later."

"Bye Edge," Angel smiled as he ran off. 

She looked around the room. Still no Benoit. Maybe he was arguing with someone over the nutritional content of the vegetarian pasta. He could get obsessive like that.

Across the room from her, a guy was rifling through a trashcan. After a while he found what he was looking for – a half-empty package of potato chips. Grinning at his find, he turned and headed straight for Angel.

"Hey Angel," he said, offering her the chips. "Wanna Lay?"

It was all Angel could do to keep from laughing, but she had a persona to keep. "I'm on a strict diet. Sorry."

He shrugged and sat across from her. "Oh, and there's no room on the menu for the new hardcore champion?"

Angel's eyes widened. "You mean you beat him?"

"You even doubted me? Of course I beat him."

"Well," Angel shrugged. "I guess I _am_ good luck."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I guess you are."  
They lapsed into silence as he stared at her and she pretended not to notice. 

"I'm serious, you know," he said at last. "I really think we should hang out. Get to know each other better."

"I'm sorry, Raven," she replied. "But I can't do that."

"Why not?" he asked, quizzically shoving a fistful of chips into his mouth. "You don't like me or something?"

"That's not it at all," Angel shrugged.

"What then?" Raven asked, chewing between words.

"You see that guy over at the drinks table? The one with the tight black T-shirt and no neck?"

"Yeah, Benoit. What about him?"  
"I belong to him."

"Serious?" Raven raised his pierced eyebrow. "What is he, your sugar daddy or something?"

Angel shook her head, her eyes locked on Raven's. "No," she said silkily. "He's my whipping boy."  
Raven gulped. "Really?" he asked nervously.

Angel nodded slowly. "Uh huh. But watch out. Whenever he thinks I might set him free he gets really, really possessive."

"He does?"

"Oh yeah."

"Here," called a voice, as food was thrust in front of her.

Raven jumped a mile. "Argh!" he cried, leaping to his feet. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" He raced away, dropping the empty chip packet on the ground. 

Benoit simply shrugged and sat in Raven's chair. "You have to stop doing that."

"Why?" Angel asked, spearing a piece of broccoli with her fork. "It's fun."

"It's a great way to get your ass kicked."

Angel shrugged. "It won't be me getting the ass kicking."

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "Meaning?"

"Plenty of men around here, Benoit. One of them's gotta be willing to fight for me."  
Benoit scoffed. "Princess, if you couldn't convince Jeff Hardy, you'll never convince anyone. He was obsessed with you."

"Don't talk about Jeff," Angel scowled.

"Why not?" Benoit asked. "Because you still have _feelings_ for him?"

Angel shrugged, sipping her water. "Maybe I do."

"No you don't," Benoit accused. "You never did. He was a little toy, like Raven's your new toy. You don't care about them, you just want to play."

"You know nothing about what I want," Angel growled.

Benoit ignored her. "They say I'm heartless. They say I'm a robot. Well, you're just the same, princess. Cold as ice."

Angel jumped to her feet. "I'm nothing like you! Nothing!"

"Sit your ass down!" Benoit snapped.

"Go to hell," Angel scowled.

"Sit down and eat your damn food."

"Make me."

"Is that what you want? Is that really what you want? Well, you listen to me, little girl. Look at me when I'm talking to you! I will force feed you every last bite until you get it through your head that you are going to eat it. If I have to, I'll shove my fist down your throat and put it in your stomach directly if that's what I have to do. Now sit down and eat your food!"

Glaring at him, Angel took a deep breath and sat. "Why do you make me eat all this anyway? I'm going to get fat."

"You're going to get muscles," Benoit replied.

"Ha," Angel scoffed. "Maybe if we ever did anything in training I would."

"Patience, princess," Benoit said, his eyes cold and focused. "By the time I'm finished with you, you'll be wishing that every day was theory."

* * * *

"Commissioner Regal."

Regal looked up. "Oh, Angel, my dear girl. I've been expecting you. Tell me, how may I assist you today?"  
Angel was focused. "Benoit wants the Rock."

Regal nodded. "After what Rock almost did to you on Raw, I don't blame Benoit in the slightest. Some people simply have no right to be World Wrestling Federation Champion at all."

"That's why I want Benoit to get a title shot."

"Of course, of course. But consider this for a moment. The Rock deserves to be taught a lesson. How dare he assume that he can launch indiscriminate attacks upon anyone he chooses, from yourself to Stone Cold Steve Austin without fear of repercussions? How dare he besmirch my authority as the WWF commissioner? That's why tonight I will book him in a handicap match against your client Chris Benoit and Kurt Angle."

Angel's face fell. "The same match as Monday?" she asked skeptically.

"Well, yes, but without the ever-delightful Chris Jericho, your side will be able to concentrate on purely defeating the Rock. Don't fret about Jericho. I have big plans for that young man. My dear Miss Torres, if you were to choose any title in this organization to have as your own, which would it be?"

"Hardcore," Angel replied without hesitation.

Regal broke into a slow smile. "Of course. I do believe that Jericho would agree with you. Jericho versus Raven it is."

Angel was getting impatient. "About Benoit's match…"

"By all means, go tell him. Benoit and Angle versus the Rock. You're welcome, my dear girl, and may I wish you all the best."

Angel sighed, then nodded. No title match tonight. "Thank you, sir." With that, she left the room.

Regal broke into a grin. "Jericho and Raven. Now, why didn't I think of that before?"

* * * *

"Angel, there you are. I've been looking all over for you."

Angel turned to look into the blue eyes of a man who was not much taller than herself. 

"Well, surprise," she deadpanned. "You found me."

Kurt Angle didn't seem to hear her. "Now I've found you, be a good girl and go tell Benoit we're teaming against the Rock and for real this time."

"I already knew that," Angel replied coolly.

"You did?" Kurt asked. "But the messenger only just told me. How did you find out so soon?"

"I made the match," Angel informed him, resisting the urge to add 'dipshit'.

"Now, Angel, you don't have to bend the truth like that. We both know Commissioner Regal made the match."

Angel held his gaze. "Who am I, Kurt?"

Kurt stared at her as though she was crazy. "You're Angel, but seriously, if you don't know…"

"That's right," Angel cut him off with a superior smile. "And?"

"What do you mean 'and'?"

"And who else am I?" Angel asked patiently.

"Um, you're Chris Benoit's manager."

Angel nodded slowly. "Two more questions. In the past two shows, how many main events have I caused to be booked including you and Benoit?" 'Assuming you can count that high,' she thought.

"Two."  
"Yep, exactly. Last question. Do you know when I first became Benoit's manager?" Kurt shook his head dumbly as Angel stared intently into his eyes. "Before Raw. This is my second show and my second main event."

Kurt's eyes widened. "Really?"

Angel nodded seriously. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go help my client prepare for battle." She started off.

Kurt's curiosity was too much. "Angel? Now I have a question. Why Benoit?"

Angel smiled, before turning back. "Simple, Kurt. I'm intelligent and I want to represent the best. Benoit's the greatest technical wrestler in the WWF. I'll see you in the ring, okay?"

She turned to leave again, knowing the effect her words would have on Kurt. The one thing that surprised her was that no one had tried it before.

* * * *

"I have two things to tell you," Angel announced as she entered the locker room.

Benoit stared at her and raised his eyebrows. "Tell me."

"You and Angle have Rock again in another handicap match."

"Main event?" Benoit asked.

"What else is there?" Angel smirked.

"And the other thing?" Benoit questioned, before she could start thinking he was impressed.

Angel turned serious and spoke with an ominous tone. "By the end of tonight, Angle will have screwed you over."

Benoit stared at her. "Cute, but I'm not stupid."

"Oh, this one I can promise," Angel smiled.

Benoit shook his head. "Kurt hates the Rock. Why would he choose this match to side with him?"  
"Because you both have egos the size of Texas. Keeping you on the same page for one match was surprising. For two matches it's an impossibility."

"Princess," Benoit said coolly. "I know you'd like nothing better than to see Kurt turn against me, but it won't happen. I've never had a problem with Kurt in the past and I don't see it starting tonight."

Angel shrugged. "Just don't say I didn't warn you."

* * * *

Angel was watching her old friends Right To Censor on the TV as Benoit bent over, putting on his boots and preparing for the match. Neither of them heard Kurt enter until he spoke.

"Chris."

Benoit raised his head slowly, rising up to look Kurt in the eye as Angel stepped next to Benoit and stared at Kurt inquisitively, her arms crossed. Benoit said nothing, challenging Kurt to speak.

When he did, he got fired up, talking about how great it had been to simultaneously apply their submission holds on the Rock and feeling him so close to breaking point. He suggested they try the same thing tonight, when Jericho wouldn't be there to break the holds. As he left, Benoit formed his smirk and turned to Angel. 

"I liked the part where he looked like he'd screw me over."

Angel frowned sarcastically. "As if he'd tell you."

Benoit nodded. "That's why I don't believe you. Even if you knew for sure, why would _you_ tell _me_?"

"I'm your manager," Angel shrugged. "If you look bad, I look bad. I'm protecting my investment."  
"Investment," Benoit repeated. "You listen to me, princess. The only thing on Kurt's mind is destroying the Rock. And that's a goal we both share. So why don't you forget about what you think you know and concentrate on being my valet?"

Angel glared at him. "I'm not a child. And you _are _an idiot. When Kurt screws you, I'll not only gloat, I'll laugh my damn ass off."

"You do that, little girl. Because it'll be a cold day in hell before that happens."

"Right, Satan," Angel smirked. "I knew I saw you wearing your winter coat. Now I know why."

* * * *

Angel paced up and down next to the ring as her opposite number Debra did the same on the other side. She was starting to think that maybe Kurt hadn't taken the bait because, so far, he and Benoit were working as a single unit even better than they had on Raw.

Despite how it looked, she shrugged off her concerns. Kurt might not be smart, but he did have a healthy ego and that was where Angel had hit him. So she watched and waited for the inevitable.

What concerned her more than Kurt not playing ball was the fact that, despite Kurt and Benoit's amazing teamwork, the Rock still seemed to have their measure.

Whenever Rock knocked Benoit down, Angel was there with her calls of "Get up! Get your ass up!" She even shouted at him when Rock threw him over the top rope and onto the ground.

"Fight back!" she shouted as the Rock bounced his head off the barricade. "Kick him! Bite him!"

"Get out the way, Angel," Kurt cried as he pushed past her from behind and headed for the Rock, who brought him down in a modified clothesline and turned back to Benoit. 

"Elbow him in the stomach!" Angel shouted as Rock started to toss Benoit into the ring, but stopped when he heard the voice of his boss coming from the announce desk. With lightning speed, he spun around and hurled Benoit through the air, right onto Mr. McMahon.

"Whoa," Angel muttered with a smirk. "That was cool."

When she looked up, the Rock was staring at her, so she ran around the corner and Rock picked up Benoit and finally put him back in the ring.

"Get up, Benoit!" Angel shouted as Rock continued the punishment.

Finally, Angle caught Rock from behind, allowing Benoit to catch his breath and form the waistlock, which launched Rock into three German suplexes. Angel nodded to herself but said nothing – shouting was only for when he was losing.

Benoit hit an elbow, then tagged in Kurt, glad for the chance to recuperate in the corner.

"He owned you," Angel goaded. "You got lucky."

Benoit turned to glare at her. "You wanna try it?"

Angel held his gaze. "Yes."

Benoit rolled his eyes and turned back to the action. "Let's go, Kurt."

Kurt bundled the Rock up in the far corner, and then it was the champion's turn to fly from the ring. With Kurt in the ring distracting the ref, Benoit was on the case, but Angel was hot on his tail.

"No, Benoit, no!" she cried, grabbing at the folding chair as he picked it up.

Benoit turned and scowled at her. "Let go of the damn chair."

"No," Angel said, teeth clenched. She tried desperately to keep her grip, but Benoit was just too strong. He yanked it from her grasp, then continued his momentum, slamming it into the Rock's face.

"You son of a bitch," Angel muttered.

"Here, princess," Benoit smirked, dropping the chair at her feet. "Take a seat." He returned to the Rock and tossed him back into the ring, where Angle was ready to mop up.

Angel scowled and kicked the chair under the ring. "Come on, Kurt," she muttered, leaning on the apron. "Prove that son of a bitch wrong."

A missile dropkick from the top turnbuckle and a long two count wasn't what she had in mind, but it was what she got. Kurt then hit a powerslam and went up top for a moonsault, but just missed his target. Being a handicap match, it really didn't matter who was legal, a fact Benoit took on board, jumping into the ring and powerslamming the Rock, before going for his own top turnbuckle move, the flying headbutt. It had the same result as the moonsault and now all three men were down.

Angel shook her head slowly. "High risk moves. When will they learn?"

The ref got to eight of a ten count before the Rock and Angle found their feet and Benoit rolled from the ring. Angel stood over him as he writhed in pain.

"You should have signaled."

Benoit looked up at her with wild eyes. "What?"

"You didn't signal the headbutt. You should've."

"Shut up!" Benoit screamed, finding his feet and his way back to the corner, just in time for the tag. He hadn't recovered enough as the Rock sent him into a clumsy but brutal belly to belly suplex and Kurt jumped in to bail him out.

Now the Rock battled two. DDT on Angle, spinebuster on Benoit and a two count which was broken by a kick from Angel, who then returned to the corner.

Rock was first up but Benoit was ready, bringing him down and locking on the crossface. It looked to be over, but suddenly Kurt jumped to the ground, gave Angel a long hard look and hooked the Rock's foot over the rope. The ref spotted it and told Benoit to break the hold. Benoit was livid, arguing with the ref as Angle pulled the blind tag and pounced on a weakened Rock. Benoit had no choice but to return to the corner, still shouting at the ref as Angel shouted too.

"I told you he'd screw you over!"

Benoit spun to glare at her, just long enough for the Rock to race over and punch him in the face, pushing him off the apron and onto Angel.

Angel wriggled out from under him. "Get off me, you piece of crap. Get…"

Benoit cut her off as he grabbed her by the throat and slammed her back into the ring post.

"Stand in the damn corner and don't say another word. You hear me? You hear me?"  
Angel nodded, frantically gasping for air. Benoit slammed her into the post once more, then released her and she sank to the ground as he climbed back into his corner.

Meanwhile…

"Rock bottom! Rock bottom!"

The Rock hooked Angle's leg, picking up the three count and the win. 

Benoit was furious, leaping into the ring and attacking the Rock, only to have an Irish whip reversed into a spinebuster and then the sharpshooter. 

Angel just leaned on the apron and said nothing as Benoit screamed and tried to tap out.

Kurt could've broken it, but instead he exited the ring, grinning over at Benoit and then at Angel. He backed up the ramp as three referees tried to break the sharpshooter and still the Rock refused.

Benoit tapped and tapped and was finally rescued when Mr. McMahon left the announce desk and entered the ring. Rock and Vince traded shouts as Benoit slowly crawled from the battle zone. A ref tried to separate the two, but Vince punched him and the Rock set up for the Rock bottom. Bam! The boss's back hit the deck and Kurt Angle, ever the opportunist, sped back down the ramp to attack the Rock while his back was turned. Boom, a shove and the ankle lock was on.

Debra reacted differently to Angel. "What are you doing? Let go!"

Angel stood by Benoit's fallen body. She showed no sympathy. "That's what you get for attacking after the match."

Benoit glared at her and tried to find his feet. "Get your ass up the ramp. Move it!"

Shaking her head furiously, Angel started to leave. She stopped and turned back to Benoit. "Told you, Benoit. Kurt screwed you, just like I said."

Benoit's eyes were wild. "What are you talking about?"  
Angel smirked, hardly believing he still didn't know. "Let's stop by the production truck. I think there's something you should see."


	30. Basic Training

Title: Basic Training

Rating: PG-13, mostly for 'do not try this at home'-ness

Spoilers: None, really. Oh wait, a couple for Wrestlemania X-6 (the one in 2000)

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters herein except for Angel. I don't own the ladder either.

Summary: Angel fights a ladder…well, she does!

A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys, I've finally hit 10! Never thought that'd happen, so keep them coming, make me happy. Tell me what you like, what you hate, what you wanna see more of. Thanks!

SUNDAY NIGHT HEAT, MARCH 25TH, 2001

Angel sat and stared unfocusing at the whiteboard as Benoit's monotonous voice droned on and on.

"This one is the STF. People who don't know what they're talking about might call it the abdominal stretch. Right now William Regal is using it as a finisher and he calls it the Regal Stretch, but it's actually the STF."

"What's STF stand for?" Angel asked, trying to pretend she at least semi-cared.

Benoit stared at her and dismissed her question by turning back to the whiteboard. "The way you apply the hold is to…"

Angel just shook her head as Benoit's stick figure theater STF-style began to take place. Squiggles and dotted lines had never meant anything to her, but then she'd never claimed to be a basketball coach, or player for that matter. She was a practical learner, always had been. The least Benoit could have done was get the production team to make a tape showing the holds in practice but no, he was a theoretical teacher. His theory was very, very detailed and very, very boring. She almost longed for the day when Blackman had taught her mat technique and they'd nearly killed each other. Actually, Blackman was the only one keeping her sane. She'd progressed from basic weapons to basic overall martial arts and those lessons were desperately needed to break the cycle of theoretical STFs, figure four leg holds and some sort of big bad family whatever it was called that Perry Saturn did from time to time.

"…So that's how it's done. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Angel replied robotically.

"Good," Benoit smirked. "Because I think it's time to try them."

"Uh huh," Angel said absently. When she looked up again, Benoit was standing right in front of her. She jumped a mile as Benoit stared down at her, eyebrows raised.

"Get in the ring."

Angel frowned. "We're actually going to…oh, what's the word, _wrestle_, in our wrestling lessons?"

By now Benoit had entered the ring. "Germans. Go."

Angel climbed up next to him and stood still, relaxing her arms and staring straight ahead. It was a moment before Benoit spoke.

"Princess. What the hell are you doing?"

"Waiting for you to suplex me so I can try and reverse it."

Benoit was surprised. "Is that what you did with Al Snow?"

"Yes."  
"Okay." He shook his head in disbelief. "Here's a new idea. How about _you _suplex _me_?"

Angel glared at him. "You don't have to be an ass about it. Germans?"

"Germans."

"Okay then." Angel stepped up behind Benoit and looped her arms around his waist. Gritting her teeth, she dug her hands into his stomach and tried to lift him. Then she adjusted her grip and tried again. And again.

"Damn it!" she cried in disgust, dropping her hands and stepping away. "I can't lift you."

"Germans!" Benoit snapped.

Angel scowled and tried again. Her hands slid to the front of Benoit's tights.

"Don't even think about it."

"You wish," Angel glowered, moving her hands up again.

Benoit was losing his patience. "Waistlock!"

"What?"

"Waistlock!"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Angel cried.

Benoit furiously grabbed her wrists and forced her arms into a waistlock. "Now go!"

Angel clenched her jaw, pressed her arms into Benoit and tried to lift him again. "I can't lift you!"

Benoit had had enough. He ripped her arms away and turned on her, giving her a little shove. "What the hell's the matter with you?"  
Angel glared furiously. "Well, maybe if you dropped a few pounds. I can't lift your big fat ass."

"Lift? Lift? You don't even know how to do a damn suplex and you think you belong in the WWF?"

Humiliated, Angel breathed deeply. "Well, if you weighed what a woman weighs…"

"It has nothing to do with how much I weigh. You make a waistlock like this," he said, grabbing her tightly. "Lean back and use your own momentum to carry you over." Bam, Angel's back hit the canvas. "Then you do it again." Bam. "And again." Bam. He released her and climbed to his feet. "It's not very hard. Now, go."

"Might not be hard but it damn sure hurts," Angel murmured to herself as she found her feet and stepped up behind Benoit. "Waistlock," she muttered. "Lean back, push off." To her surprise, over they went. It wasn't a brutal suplex, but it was a suplex nonetheless. Angel was so surprised she almost screamed. But her excitement was short-lived.

"Again!" Benoit shouted.

Angel tried to get up.

"Don't drop the waistlock!"

"Fine!" Angel screamed, going for the second suplex. It badly winded her, but…

"Again!"

Angel swore in Benoit's ear as she went for the third. She landed it and released the waistlock at last, lying on the canvas as she caught her breath.

"Rollups!" Benoit ordered.

Angel groaned, pulled herself up into a crouch and leaped on Benoit, who simply lifted his knee into her abdomen. Angel yelped and collapsed onto the canvas, holding her stomach. "You bastard!"

Benoit stood over her, smirking. "You wanna try me? Show me what you've got."

Angel scowled and gulped in a few big breaths, then dove through Benoit's legs and landed on her feet. She delivered a quick kick to the small of his back and he stumbled forward as she caught his front with her hands and forced him down. She moved her arm long enough to elbow him in the back and curve his spine further before she locked on his own crossface.

"Tap out, you son of a bitch!" she screamed, leaning back to increase the torque.

Benoit let out a low growl and threw her off as if she weighed nothing, before scrambling over her and locking the crossface on her. Angel screamed as her neck bent back and pain shot through her body.

"Tap out!"

'Never!' Angel thought, trying to crawl towards the rope. She hardly moved at all.

"Tap out!"

"Argh!" She tried again. Still no go.

"Tap out!"

Tap…tap…tap. Benoit pushed her down and released his hold before leaping to his feet.

Angel rolled over and stared up at him as tears of pain and humiliation streamed down her cheeks. 

"I hate you," she hissed, grabbing at her neck with one hand and wiping away tears with the other. "I hate you!"

Benoit smirked at her. "Today's lesson, princess. Before you try something, make sure you know what the hell you're doing."  
"I hate you!" Angel screamed one more time before climbing out of the ring and leaving the room, and Benoit, behind.

* * * *

Angel was in a slightly better mood after showering and dressing. In fact, she was just in the right frame of mind to seek out Commissioner Regal.

"Who do you want on Heat tonight?" she asked, towel drying her short hair on her way between her bedroom and the bathroom.

Benoit didn't look up from the TV. "No one."

"What was that?" Angel asked, not sure she'd heard right. 

Benoit still concentrated on the match on TV. Wrestlemania X-6. Himself, Kurt Angle and Chris Jericho for the IC and Euro titles. Benoit had come away with IC but had spent most of the match concentrating on Jericho. For the first time he wished he'd done things differently. But Angle had had a hell of a year 2000 and there was plenty of footage, plenty of mistakes to be forced, plenty of weaknesses to be exploited, plenty of…

"Kurt Angle has the night off."

"Yeah, and I'm not his manager."

"I want Kurt."

"But you just said he has…"

"Not tonight," Benoit snapped, turning to her incredulously. His eyes had that glazed over, focused look. "At Wrestlemania."

"But what about Heat tonight…"

"Tonight," Benoit repeated, cutting her off. "Tonight I watch Kurt. Tonight I do not waste my time disposing of low card nobodies."

Angel sighed. "You don't want a match, then?"

"I want a match," Benoit assured her. "I want Kurt Angle at Wrestlemania."

"Okay, fine," Angel shrugged. "I'm done talking to you." She turned to enter the bathroom.

"Princess?"

"What?"

"Take the day off. I don't want you interrupting me when I'm trying to watch these."

Angel frowned. "You're giving me the day off?"

Benoit glared at her. "Do I stutter?"

Angel resisted the urge to reply, 'no, but you do have a lisp.' She broke into a slow smile. "Great. I might even grab some McDonald's."

Benoit waved her off, focusing on the TV again. "I don't give a crap how you poison your body."

Angel stared at the back of his head for a moment. She told herself not to argue. A day off was nothing to be sneezed at. Now, what was she going to do with it?

* * * *

Jeff Hardy sat at a weights bench, strengthening his shoulders and arms. TLC II was only a week away and he had to be mentally and physically tough enough to battle through it and bring home the gold. He knew that he and Matt were considered underdogs with the Dudleyz currently the champions and Edge and Christian having won it the first time around. But he also knew that he was willing to do anything – anything – to become the champion again. 

He definitely wasn't the only one thinking alone those lines. As well as Matt; Edge, Christian and their freakish friend Rhyno were in the gym and the Dudleyz had just left after some ring work he felt sure had included scaling ladders. It wouldn't be easy, but Jeff felt certain that he and Matt were due. It was their time – it had to be.

And suddenly there she was – the only person who could distract him from his goal. Her appearance made him feel suddenly sick as he realized just how much he missed her. For such a short time she had been his – he remembered every moment so clearly. Her feverish kisses, the smoothness of her skin under his fingers, her awesome smile, the way she'd do crazy things and then laugh, the way she always, always refused to admit how sweet and vulnerable she really was. God, how he missed her. He almost got up and stepped over to her, before reminding himself that she wasn't like that anymore. She wasn't his Angel. Now she didn't smile – she smirked – just like Benoit. Now she wore her 'Prove Me Wrong' tube top and walked focused and methodically – just like Benoit. Now the only expression her face showed at all was the occasional raising of her eyebrows – just like Benoit. No, she wasn't his Angel anymore. She was Benoit's.

She didn't even look at him as she walked through the gym – but she did see other people there. First, a high five to Christian, then a familiar gripping of Edge's hand before he pulled her in for a friendly hug. They talked briefly before Angel stepped away, a smile – or rather a smirk – on her face. So that was how things were. Just then, that Rhyno thing ran at her and for a moment Jeff thought she was in for a spear, but he wrapped his tree-trunk thick arms around her tightly in a hug that was even more friendly than Edge's. He could see her face as she first looked scared to death, then broke into a smile and returned Rhyno's hug, saying something to him as she did so.

Jeff shook his head sadly. Now, more than ever, she was gone. She was Benoit's sidekick; she was friends with Edge and Christian. It honestly couldn't get any worse. He watched her leave his enemies and head towards the other room, where the ring was set up.

Damn, she looked good. Obviously her gym routine was working because her muscles were looking real good. She looked fit, healthy and somewhat dangerous and he really, really, dug that. She'd always been a babe, but he'd almost liked it better when he was the only one who'd really noticed. Now, he figured, most people had watched her brief appearance in the main gym, even those who really didn't have the right to look.

He shook his head sadly. She'd been his and he'd let her go. She'd had to go, though. It was that old saying – fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. The title belt and chair shots were two things he really had not needed. Though none of them had said it, Jeff was sure that Matt and Lita considered Jeff's concussion from the chair at least partly to blame for the tag title loss. Jeff's life was easier without Angel, that was for sure. It didn't mean it was better. Not for the first time, he wondered if they had wrongfully accused her – that she hadn't meant the things she'd done; that she really did loathe Benoit and was his valet under duress. He'd never forgive himself if that was the case. But it couldn't be. Valets didn't share rooms with their clients – not if they weren't a couple – and they sure as hell didn't spend every waking hour together. It was a mystery, one he might never figure out.

"Hey Jeff, how many reps you gonna do?"

Jeff looked up at Matt and slowly came out of his trance. "I think I'm gonna go…work with the ladders for a while."

Matt smiled. "Okay. I'll join you later. Be careful, okay?"

Jeff nodded and hit fists with Matt. "You know I will."

* * * *

Angel worked alone, visualizing an imaginary opponent. She leaped off the ropes, carefully coordinating her moves. Clothesline, elbow, then an Asai moonsault (AKA Chris Jericho's lionsault). Next, she ran at the corner, jumping at the turnbuckle as though leaping over an opponent. She turned quickly for a spinning heel kick but threw herself off balance and fell back into the ropes. Leaning back, she pulled herself up to the top turnbuckle and leaped out in a missile dropkick that would floor any opponent. She made the cover but somehow the bastard kicked out, so she gave him a quick elbow to the ribs and was back on her feet, running at the ropes again and returning just in time for the DDT. She kicked her opponent towards the corner, then climbed the ropes for the moonsault. She laded it, made the cover and one…two…three, it was over.

She climbed to her feet and raised her arms in the air, breathing heavily. 

"Damn," she muttered. "I really need a training partner."

Along the side wall, someone had lined up five ladders, presumably training for the TLC match.

"You want a piece of me?" Angel yelled. "Oh, you do, huh? Well, maybe you should get your ass in the ring!"

She slid down to the floor and closed a ladder before shoving it into the ring and climbing in after it. 

So far her experiment had worked – how would her tube top and leather pants hold up to an actual match? Now was the real test. Now she had an opponent.

Nodding to herself, she opened the ladder and stood it near the center of the ring. Then she pulled out her sticks and sized it up. 

Slap, slap, slap, slap, slap. The sticks crisscrossed up and down the ladder, only slightly jarring her hands as she danced around it, prepared for anything. Slap, slap; two knife-edge chops, stick style and the ladder was teetering. Boom, a martial arts kick to the side and it fell, hitting the ropes and springing back at her. She just leaped out of the way in time. Then she smiled to herself and steadied the ladder, ready to start again. Slap, slap, duck, slap. She decided to try the spinning heel kick again and this time she didn't teeter, her boot making a satisfying crunch against the steel. But she failed to turn around in time and this time, when the ladder fell she did too, getting crushed between it and the ropes.

"Ow," she muttered, pushing the ladder back up. She moved it a little closer to the corner and climbed to the top turnbuckle, focusing on the fifth rung – her opponent's head. She flew in another missile dropkick and connected perfectly with her target, but she hadn't counted on what would happen after that. Her feet and legs skidded over the top of the rung, which trapped her body in the ladder as it closed slightly, using her momentum to fall and slamming her legs into the canvas. 

Angel was too stunned to scream as the jolt of impact raced through her body, along with the realization that, of all the things she'd tried, this was definitely not the smartest and she almost wished she'd had a crowd there to chant "HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!" She took a deep breath and pushed off the canvas with her hands, releasing herself from the ladder and scrambling to her feet. 

'I'm okay,' she thought, pacing around. 'A little sore, but okay.' It was incredible. She should have broken her back, or her leg at least, but she was okay.

"I'm unstoppable!" she cried. "Unstoppable!"

She grabbed the ladder as though it weighed nothing and stood it as close to the edge of the ring as she could get it without going over. There was one move left to try.

Focused, she climbed the in-ring side of the ladder, right to the very top, then raised her hands to keep her balance. It was a long way to the floor, but she had to do this.

"Swanton bomb," she whispered, and then she took off. Flight, spin and landing were all perfect and she spun her arms around on impact. She'd done it, and landed it on her feet, just as she'd planned.

"Yes!" she cried, pumping her fists as she still stared down at her feet. "Yes!"

When she looked up, someone was staring back at her.

"You know," he frowned. "If I hadn't already seen all the crazy stuff you just tried, I'd tell you that's a damn good way to wreck your knees."

Angel glared at him. "Oh, I'm sorry, Jeff," she breathed. "I forgot they appointed you god of ring safety." She challenged him with her eyes.

"At least I wait until the fans are watching and medical help's around before I nearly kill myself."

"Still no cure for death, you know," Angel told him.

Jeff decided to change the subject. "So, I hear you're Benoit's manager now? That's good work for someone who claims to hate him."  
Angel stared him off. "So, I hear you and Matt lost the titles just after you shafted me. That's good work for people who blamed me for all their problems."

"We might not have lost them if you hadn't hit me with a chair."

"Oh, and I meant to do that," Angel said sarcastically. "I was in the ring with Benoit and he wanted me to hit Haku, but I thought 'You know what? I think I might hit my best friend instead'."

Jeff glowered at her. "Have you always been this much of a bitch?"

"Yeah, I have," Angel replied. "I guess you were too busy trying to get down my pants to notice."

Jeff fumed, sizing her up. "Speaking of pants," he said evenly. "Didn't I buy those?"

Angel looked down. "Actually, yes, I think you did. Here, Jeff," she added, fumbling at the button. "Far be it for me to deprive you. You'll look great in them. In fact, you should wear them at Wrestlemania."

Crash! Before Jeff could reply, the door flew into him and knocked him down.

"Angel face!" Edge cried.

"Angel, how goes it, _ma soeur_?" Christian added.

"Angel?" Rhyno finished. "You're bleeding! Look, you're bleeding!" He leaped over Jeff and grabbed Angel, trying to stop the flow of blood from her arm.

"I'm okay," she assured them.

"Whoa!" Edge cried, spotting Jeff at last. "You like, broke him!"

"Awesome!" Christian agreed.

Jeff painfully crawled from the room.

"See you later, Jeff," Angel called after him.

"What a toolshed!" Edge announced.

"Totally!" cried Christian.

"Angel. Have you stopped bleeding yet?" Rhyno asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I promise. Thanks, guys."

* * * *

"I need the keys," Angel said as soon as she entered the room.

"Why?" Benoit asked, not looking up.

"I want to go shopping. I'll keep out of your way, I promise."

"Just you?"

"Yeah, just me." She paused. "I asked Molly, but Crash had a match with Perry Saturn and she seems to think she can take out Malenko so…"

"Here." Benoit was holding up the keys. "Put some gas in it."

"Okay," Angel said evenly, taking the keys. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me, just get the hell out."

Angel sighed and headed for the door. He didn't have to tell her twice.

* * * *

Angel was almost out of the lobby and on her way to freedom when someone called her name.

"Angel! Hold up for one second."  
She spun around, her expression cool. "What do you want, Kurt?"

"You know," Kurt started. "I've been hearing some nasty rumors about you."

"Such as?" Angel asked boredly.

"Such as you don't even like Benoit."

"That's not a rumor. I tell that to anyone who'll listen."

"So, if you don't like him, why do you manage him?"

"Because he's the best," Angel shrugged.

"He's not the best!" Kurt cried incredulously.

"Sure he is. Dave Meltzer says…"

"I don't give two hoots what Dave Meltzer says. Has Chris Benoit ever been the World Wrestling Federation champion for four undefeated months? No, I didn't think so. Has Chris Benoit ever represented his country in the summer Olympics? And he's from Canada – you'd think all you'd have to do to make that team is show up at the airport – kind of like Australia, right? But was Chris Benoit ever an Olympian? Does he have these, Angel?" he cried, holding up his gold medals. "Well, does he?"

"No, he doesn't."

Kurt smirked. "Exactly. So how can he be the best?"

Angel shrugged. "I'm not the one who calls him the greatest damn technical wrestler in the WWF."

"The…the what?" Kurt cried. "But I'm a gold medallist. Chris Benoit's just…well, where are _his_ gold medals?"

"He doesn't have any," Angel said flatly.

"That's right! I'm the best! Me! You should be _my_ manager!"

Angel cocked her head. "Excuse me?"

"Not that I even need a manager, of course, but if you want to represent the best, it has to be me. Tell me, what has Chris Benoit ever done for you?"

"Well, he _is_ my coach. And then there's my fee." She broke into a smile and informed Kurt exactly how much it was costing Benoit to keep her around.

"Wow, he has that kind of money to throw around? I mean, when did he last have a main event match at a Pay Per View?" Angel just stared at him so he continued. "I'll match it. And I'll coach you. Who better to coach you than me, Kurt Angle, your Olympic Hero? What do you say, Angel? Come work for me."

"I can't, Kurt."

Kurt was stunned. "Why the heck not?"

"Because I work for Benoit."

Kurt exhaled derisively. "So quit."

"I can't."

"Of course you can. You're just the person for the job. You have intelligence, you have intensity and really, two out of three is not that bad. How about it?"

"I can't. I have a deal with Benoit. I work for him for as long as he wants me. I can't quit."

"Sure you can."

"No, Kurt," Angel shook her head. "If I back out of the deal, what's that make me? Where's my integrity? I can't do it. That's just the sort of person I am. Thanks anyway, though." She nodded slowly and continued on her way.

Kurt watched her, shaking his head. "Integrity," he muttered. "Who'd have thought it?"


	31. Family & Friends

Title: Family & Friends

Rating: PG-13, mostly for violence and angst although there's probably a little language in there too.

Spoilers: Raw, 3/26/01 for a promo I saw and a match I didn't (they didn't show it over here because what happened to Lita was deemed too violent)

Summary: A week after being thrown out, Angel comes face to face with all of Team eXtreme.

A/N: So, I've been asked - Benoit hurt Angel in the last chapter, doesn't that mean the deal's off? Nope. That's actually a clause. Training doesn't count, because training always hurts (just ask the Tough Enough kids). If you think I just pulled this one out of my butt, see chapter 19, where Benoit says, "Training doesn't count. It's not real." Eventually, Angel agrees, thus making it a clause. But if it's continuity errors you're looking for, don't worry. There's a big one coming up in a few chapters. Thanks for reading, guys! 

RAW IS WAR, MARCH 26TH, 2001

Knock, knock, knock. 

Jeff was furious. "Why the hell does this always happen?" he screamed, throwing off the covers. "Why can't you people let me sleep?"  
He opened the door to find…no one. At his feet sat a full garbage bag with a note attached. Shaking his head, he ripped the note away and read it.

Jeff,

I was serious. The leather pants should definitely be a go for you at Wrestlemania. I hope you enjoy these as much as I did.

Angel

Sighing, Jeff picked up the bag and backed into his room.

'That's that, then,' he shrugged. 'She never _did_ thank me. Now what's she going to do for clothes? Is she likes leather pants so much, maybe her new friend Edge can hook her up.'

"Dammit!" he shouted, booting the bag across the room and scattering tank tops, hipster pants and cute little jackets all over the floor. "Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! What the hell am I going to do with all this? Dammit!"

* * * *

"I'm going back to the gym," Angel announced. "Come get me when you're ready to head over to the arena."

"Uh huh," Benoit murmured.

"Okay, so I'll see you later."

A reflection in the screen was seriously bugging Benoit. He turned slowly, a look of pure disgust on his face. 

"Princess. What the hell is that?"

Angel held out the huge doll, which she'd dressed in her own clothes – a tank top and jeans.

"This is Larissa. She's my training partner. I got her yesterday."

"That's a doll," Benoit informed her.

"I know that. Did I tell you yesterday I fought a ladder? This is definitely a step up."

"It's a doll. It's cloth and stuffing."

"At first glance, perhaps, but check this out." She stepped across the room, picked up a vase and dumped out the plastic flowers. Then she reached under Larissa's top and undid a zipper, exposing the stuffing beneath. "Okay, so pretend the vase weighs ten pounds." She plunged it into the stuffing and zipped up the doll again. "Voila! She now weighs ten pounds!"

Benoit was not impressed. "Even Terri weighs more than ten pounds."

"I know that, but it's the principle. There's plenty more space in here for other weights. Can't you see the promise in this?"

"What I see," Benoit replied. "Is you trying to be Al Snow. Only instead of tearing off the doll's head, you're ripping its guts out."

Angel now glared at him. "You really have no imagination."

Before Benoit could answer, JR's voice boomed from the TV. "Olympic Slam! Olympic Slam!"

Benoit spun to face the TV, then scowled back at Angel. "Take your damn doll and get the hell out of here!" He immediately turned back around, ending their conversation.

Angel frowned and gripped her doll. "Come on, Larissa. He's just jealous 'cause he doesn't have anybody's ass to kick."

Benoit heard the door click shut and still watched Kurt Angle move across the TV screen. "I kick _everybody's_ ass!"

* * * *

Angel sat on the weight bench, sticking twenty-pound weights into Larissa's torso. She stopped at five. A hundred pounds sure would test her. She leaned forward to pick up the doll, then almost immediately dropped it on the ground.

"Here, let me help you with that." Kurt Angle reached down and picked up Larissa. "Geesh!" he cried. "What's this weigh? A hundred pounds?"

Angel nodded, helping Kurt put the doll back down on the bench. "I'm thinking eighty might be more my speed, though."

"That's a good thought," Kurt agreed, watching as she removed a weight. "What _is_ that thing, anyway?"

"Training aid," Angel replied.

Kurt nodded. "Good idea…if the seams hold."

Angel stood, placing her hands on hips which were clad in tight leather. "Story of my life. So tell me," she added as his gaze traveled the length of her body and ended on her eyes. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I was thinking about what you said yesterday. I've decided I need you in my corner."

"Oh, you decided that, huh? Well, sorry, Kurt. We've been through this."

"Yeah, I know. But you don't like Benoit and I'm a way out. Just tell Benoit you want to work for me and if he doesn't like it he can go jump."

"Integrity, Kurt?" Angel asked.

"Chris Benoit doesn't even know the meaning of the word! And that is true!"

Angel grinned. "You know what? You're right. He doesn't. I'll think about it, okay? I'll think about it."

"You will? Well, great! That's great, Angel."

* * * *

"So, Vince bought WCW?" Angel asked, buttoning up her new Wrestlemania baseball jersey.

"Seems that way," Benoit murmured.

"So, what's that mean?"

"What do you mean 'what's that mean'? It means WCW is dead and buried, just like it should be."

Angel raised her eyebrows. "Bitter much?"

Benoit just scowled at her. "I had the good sense to jump. Shane Douglas and Konnan were going to do the same but they didn't, and now look what they've got. I have nothing to say for it at all."

Angel nodded meekly. "Speaking of Shanes, I checked that Shane Helms guy out. He's kinda cute."

"Cute doesn't get you far when you're unemployed."

"I beg to differ," Angel shrugged. "I'm cute, I was unemployed and now I make more than I ever have before."

Benoit stared at her, aghast. "You think I made you my slave because of what you look like?"

"I'm not your slave."

"You are my slave."

Angel simply broke into a grin. "Slaves _wish_ they had it this good." She leaned back against the wall. "You know what? You pay me too much and there ain't a damn thing you can do about it."

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "Oh, there isn't? Shut your damn mouth!"

Angel broke into a smirk. "It'll cost you."

Benoit scowled and reached for his wallet, then changed his mind and put it away again. "You're not worth it."

"I know," Angel grinned. "So isn't it funny that you pay it anyway?"

In one fluid movement, Benoit stood and hurled his chair at Angel. It missed her head by inches, slamming into the wall and then clattering to the ground. Angel looked up and noticed that there was now a dent in the wall.

"Fine," she mused. "I won't talk about WCW anymore."

"Shut up!" Benoit snapped. 

Angel shut her mouth, put her foot on the chair and, with her eyes locked on Benoit's, slid it over to him. On the TV behind him, pyrotechnics were signaling the start of Raw. 

At the sound of 'Medal', Benoit spun to face the TV, immediately transfixed. 

"You want me to go see Regal now?" Angel asked quietly.

"No," Benoit replied coolly. "Wait and see what this bitch has to say."

'Bitch,' Angel thought. 'It must be love.'

"Little girl," Benoit said after a while. "I'm going out there and you're coming with me."

"Yippee," Angel murmured, following him from the room.

* * * *

Angel stood with Benoit in the backstage area as Kurt continued his speech. Each word was making Benoit more and more pissed off until he couldn't take it anymore.

"That whiney, self-centered piece of shit thinks he's the greatest wrestler in the WWF? That's _my_ title! I earned that!" He furiously grabbed Angel's wrist and spun to the sound desk. "Play 'Shooter'!" he ordered. "Play it now!"

The sound guys were concerned about getting balance from the ring mics, the crowd noise, Kurt and the announcers, and didn't hear him. Still holding Angel's arm, he stormed over to the nearest sound guy and tore off his earphones.

"Play my goddamn song!" he screamed into the guy's ear. 

Shocked, the guy nodded rapidly. "Okay."

Then, just as Kurt was reminding the crowd how long he'd held the Federation title, 'Shooter' finally started.

Benoit smirked with satisfaction as he led Angel towards the stage.

"Get that microphone," he ordered.

Angel did as she was told and when Kurt looked towards the stage, there stood Benoit and Angel.

"Give it here," Benoit demanded so Angel handed him the mic.

Benoit's speech belied his fury as he walked calmly down the ramp with Angel in tow. When they reached the ring Angel waited on the outside, leaning on the apron and watching Kurt and Benoit. Pretty soon, they each made the mistake of stealing the other's catchphrase, so of course they came to blows, grappling and trying to take each other down until Benoit finally managed to secure the crossface. Kurt started to tap, just as Benoit had predicted he would. At that moment, Edge and Christian came sprinting down the ramp towards the ring. Angel heard them approach and spun to watch them.

"Hey guys."

"Hey Angel," they called back as they leaped into the ring and kicked Benoit away from Angle. Benoit leaped up to retaliate but Edge caught him with a powerbomb neckbreaker and Christian gave him a backbreaker across his knee. Edge and Christian then went to help Kurt, leaving Benoit laying in the ring.

Team ECK walked slowly towards the ramp, past where Angel was standing, and Kurt looked up and spotted her.

"I didn't tap," he said wearily. "I'm the best. I didn't tap to him."

Angel just shrugged cryptically so it was up to Edge to reassure him. "We know, Kurtski. Who'd ever tap to that reekazoid?"

In the ring, Benoit was finally finding his feet. He focused his pain and anger-filled eyes on Angel. "I told you I'd make that bitch tap. And I'll do it again, too. Go find Regal and tell him I want Kurt's ass."

"Tonight?" Angel asked.

"Yeah, tonight. Yeah, Wrestlemania. I will make him tap and tap and tap. He's think he's Fred freakin' Astaire for all the tapping he'll be doing. Now, go!"

Angel nodded slowly. "You don't need help walking?"

"Go!" Benoit ordered.

"Okay." Angel hurried up the ramp.

* * * *

Just as she reached William Regal's office, Edge and Christian exited it. 

"Hey Angel face," Edge grinned. "Sorry about that hurt we just laid on your boy Benoit. It was totally business, okay? Kurt's our friend."

Angel simply shrugged. "Hurt him. Kill him if you want. Doesn't worry me."

Edge's grin widened. "Okay. We'll see you."

"Yeah, bye guys."

Angel heard Christian speak as the two of them headed off. "You were so right, _mon frere_. That girl is cool!"

"See, I told you. She's totally awesome!"

Angel smiled to herself and opened the door to Commissioner Regal's office. "Hi Commissioner Regal."

Regal frowned at her. "Angel, my dear girl. Have you come to arrange a match for Chris Benoit?"

"Yeah, I have. Tonight he wants…"

"I'm very sorry, but I've already booked Mr. Benoit in a match. You're too late."

"I am? You have? Well, he wants Kurt Angle, so…"

"Well, that is fortunate, because he has him."

"Really? Great. Benoit versus Angle." She turned to leave.

"Not so fast, Miss Torres. It's a six-man tag. Edge and Christian just visited me and informed me that they wanted six man with their friend Kurt Angle." 

Angel nodded. "So, who are Benoit's partners?"

Regal broke into a smile. "Oh, I think you'll like it. I hear they're two young men you know very well."

Angel went pale. "No," she breathed. "Please, no."

Regal frowned. "You've been in the Hardy Boyz corner countless times. You don't want that tonight?"

"I'm no longer affiliated with that team," Angel said quietly.

"Hmm, that _is_ unfortunate. You understand I can't change things now. I'm actually on my way to see Mr. McMahon, and then to the ring. For tonight, you'll just have to manage, I'm afraid."

Angel just shook her head and walked numbly to the door.

* * * *

"I want the night off," Angel announced as soon as she entered the locker room.

"What? Why?" Benoit demanded. 

"Because I don't want to go out for your match."

"My match," Benoit repeated. "Did you get me Kurt?"  
Angel nodded slowly. "Yeah, I got you Kurt. And Edge. And Christian. It's six man tag."

"Edge and Christian," Benoit grinned. "Perfect. So, who are my partners?"

Angel scowled. "I think you can work it out."

Benoit stared at her in surprise, then started a low, evil laugh.

"It's not funny!" Angel cried, becoming even more pissed off.

"Little girl, it's hilarious," Benoit laughed.

"You mean you're okay with this?" Angel demanded.

"I have a match against Kurt and his mindless yes-men. That's all I care about."

Angel glowered at him. "You're a son of a bitch."

Benoit started laughing again. "So, princess. You know at least one Hardy brother very well. Do they like to talk about it first or just get it on?"

Angel's eyes flashed. "What I did with Jeff is none of your damn business."

Benoit frowned. "I was talking about the match."

"Right," Angel fumed. "Sure you were."

Benoit smirked at her. "Night off is denied. And yes, I might pay you too much, but I have a feeling that, at least for tonight, you'll be worth every penny."

* * * *

Angel stood, stone faced and silent, waiting for the reprise of 'Shooter' to accentuate her gloom. Lita and the Hardyz were making their entrance and soon Angel would join them. Soon she would look them in the eye, a week after Lita had told her they were no longer family. A week after Jeff told her he didn't want to breathe the same air as her, when he had so recently called her his best friend. A week after Matt, the rational one, who generally thought things through and reached the right conclusions, had kept quiet and let Jeff and Lita decide things. The two of them had both said they didn't want to look at her. After what they'd said and done to her, she sure as hell didn't want to look at them, either. But now she was going to have to.

The music started and Angel breathed deeply. It was time.

Side by side, Angel and Benoit walked down the ramp, both wearing matching expressions. Cold eyes, set jaws, no smile but not quite a glare. As they approached the ring, Angel fixed her gaze on Lita, then slowly switched it to Jeff. They were both wearing Wrestlemania jerseys, with Lita's tied above her navel. Angel didn't need any greater incentive, tearing her own jersey off (to mild pops from the crowd) and revealing her tube top. She and Benoit had reached the ring. They climbed in and stared at their partners, still approaching. A moment before joining them, Angel suddenly ducked out of the ring and landed on the ground. All four people in the ring frowned down at her and then Kurt Angle's music started. He, Edge and Christian walked down the ramp, accompanied by great pyrotechnics and fanfare. Angel half-smiled and nodded as the others glared. 

Benoit, Matt and Jeff all decided to meet their opponents on the ramp and Lita rolled out of the ring next to her cousin.

"Hello Angel," she said coolly.

Angel simply turned her back and walked around the ring so she was now technically standing in Team ECK's corner. It was kind of fitting, really.

Somehow, Matt and Edge made it into the ring, followed by Jeff for the double team. Edge kicked out from the cover, leaving himself and Jeff legal, but Christian attacked from behind, allowing Edge to tag Kurt. 

Angel watched expressionlessly as Kurt went to work on Jeff, just shaking her head from time to time. Kurt finally suplexed Jeff and tagged in Christian, who ran over to knock Matt off the apron.

Jeff slowly found his bearings and looked hopefully into his corner, but his brother wasn't there. Benoit was though, leaning over the ropes and beckoning for the tag. Jeff's face fell as he twisted his neck to stare at Angel, who stared back at him with a truly bitchy look on her face. Jeff sighed. He hated this, but Christian was coming back and he desperately needed the tag. He leaped across the ring and tagged in Benoit before he could change his mind.

Benoit went ballistic, attacking anything which could be remotely considered an enemy. He quickly ran after Edge and formed the waistlock, sending him into a German suplex, before setting up for another. Before he could execute it, Kurt attacked him and forced him to break the hold. Just then the Hardyz arrived, grabbed Angle and performed the Poetry in Motion; then Benoit jumped in and locked on the crossface. Just as Kurt was about to tap, Christian arrived to bail out his friend, only to have the same hold applied to him. Tap…tap…tap and that was that.

Her team had won, but Angel felt no sense of victory. Even though her boss and her cousin were on her side, it was her friends who had lost, so any happiness she felt was well and truly stilted. 

As usual, Benoit refused to release the hold.

"Let him go!" Angel shouted as Christian screamed. "It's over! Let him go!"

Suddenly, Kurt rushed in and attacked Benoit, who finally dropped the hold and jumped to his feet, ready to continue things. Kurt ran at him, but Benoit simply lifted him and dumped him from the ring, before diving out onto him.

Back in the ring, Matt was battling Edge. He flagged and scored the Twist of Fate, before Angel heard a furious shout and Rhyno appeared from nowhere. He ran in and speared Matt, then went to check on Edge.

"Oh my God, Matt!" Lita cried, climbing into the ring and running to his aid. "What the hell did you do to him, you monster?" she demanded, turning her blazing eyes to Rhyno.

Feeling a deep sense of foreboding, Angel switched her gaze between her cousin and Rhyno as he started to snort at Lita.

"Lita! Don't shout at him!" she warned.

But Lita wasn't done chewing out Rhyno. "Who the hell do you think you are, you big dumb piece of…"

"Lita, watch out!" Angel screamed, but before the words had even left her lips, Rhyno charged, taking Lita down with a vicious spear. He then jumped a way and joined Edge and Christian, who made their retreat, past Angel.

Angel watched them solemnly as they joked about what Rhyno had done and the man himself turned his head and caught her eye.

"She yelled at me!" he panted. "She yelled at me!"

"I know, dude," Edge grinned. "But you totally shut her mouth!"

Angel shook her head sadly and turned back to the ring. Lita was lying facedown and possibly unconscious as Matt, Jeff and several refs crouched nearby and checked on her. Angel grabbed the ropes, pulled herself up so she was standing on the apron and watched as the Hardyz helped Lita up. She looked awful and Angel felt her face crumple.

Suddenly, there were sweaty arms around her waist and she was pulled from the apron. Benoit stared at her with tired eyes, having finally had enough of brawling with Angle for the night. 

"Come on."

Angel slapped him away. "Wait…Lita got speared and…"

"And you care?" Benoit asked skeptically. 

"Well, she's my cousin," Angel protested anxiously.

"And?" Benoit prompted.

"And, she's family!" Angel cried.

"Is she?"

"Yeah, she's…just shut up, okay?" Angel turned back to the ring, hoping Lita would see that she'd waited, that she was worried. But the only person whose gaze she did meet didn't seem to care about those things. Jeff's look was cold enough to freeze the sun and Angel's worried frown withered beneath its power.

"Is she?" Benoit asked again.

Angel bowed her head, then turned abruptly and stormed up the ramp. "Don't talk to me," she snapped at Benoit.

He simply swallowed, sniffed wearily and followed her.

Angel didn't speak at all until they were back in the locker room. She wept silently the whole way, walking quickly so Benoit almost had to run to keep up. 

"I left my new jersey at ringside," she said at last, wiping away the last of her tears.

"Have mine," Benoit replied, grabbing his stuff for the shower.

"I don't want yours."

Benoit shrugged. "Yours was mine anyway. I bought it."

"You did? How much? Fifty bucks?" She reached for her wallet.

Benoit waved her off. "Forget it."

"No, I won't forget it. Don't do me any favors, okay? Here's a hundred. Fifty for that other one and fifty for the new one."

Benoit looked down at the money, then slowly up at Angel. "Take mine."

"I don't _want_ yours!" Angel shouted.

Benoit snapped, slapping her hands so the money went flying and causing Angel to glare at him accusingly.

"You know what you are?" he spat. "Well, do you? You're an ungrateful little bitch, that's what you are!" With that, he shouldered his gym bag and stormed off towards the showers.

Angel watched him, her expression dynamic as she tried to decide on a reaction. Finally, she decided on a scowl and bent down to pick up the money. "I have nothing to be grateful to you for, you asshole. Nothing!" With that, she too stormed off and down the hall.

As it had been a week earlier, the name 'Shane' was everywhere.

"I can't believe what Shane did."

"I always knew he had it in him. He is the Giant Killer after all."

"If he does that one more time I swear I'll jump ship and go work for Shane."

"Did you see Shane?"

"Did you hear about Shane?"

"Shane." "Shane, Shane, Shane, Shane, Shane."

Finally, Angel had to know. She stopped next to a backstage cameraman, who was reloading film into his camera.

"Everyone keeps talking about Shane."

He turned to her and smiled. "Yeah, that was great, wasn't it? If I don't see some action soon I'll probably head over there."

"Over where?" Angel asked.

"WCW," the guy explained. "Shane bought it out from under Mr. McMahon's nose. You should've seen the look on his face."

"Are you serious?" Angel cried.

"Yeah," the guy grinned.

"Wow, so Shane McMahon now owns Shane Helms?"

The guy frowned, obviously thinking 'another teenybopper'. "Well, he has to decide who he wants from their pool of talent and who he can poach from over here but yeah, potentially."

"Wow," Angel said again. "That's awesome. Thanks."

"Hey, no problem," the guy smiled. "I'll see you around."

"You bet," Angel smiled back, continuing on her way. She really didn't know where she was going, other than the fact that she didn't want to see Benoit. How dare he say that to her – that she was ungrateful.

'Oh yeah,' she thought. 'I'm so grateful you hold me against my will. I'm delighted you tell me what to do, where to go, what to wear, what to eat, who to talk to, where to sleep, when to breathe. I'm ec-bloody-static.'

Eventually, she found herself outside the trainer's room. She stopped when she heard voices coming from inside. Voices with southern accents. Voices she knew well.

'I'll just see how she's doing,' she decided and pushed the door open before she could change her mind.

Lita was lying on a stainless steel bench as doctors worked on her and the Hardyz looked on. Her face was pale and she looked to be in great pain.

Jeff looked up and spotted Angel. "What the hell do _you_ want?"  
Angel set her gaze and turned abruptly to and unoccupied EMT. "I need some ice packs for Chris Benoit. Two would be good." As he went to retrieve them, Angel looked back over at Lita. Now, three sets of eyes were on her.

"Yeah, Angel," Lita gasped. "Coming to see what your friend did to me? Jeff already told us how tight you are with those three."

Angel's face was now cold. "Who I'm friends with has nothing to do with you."

"But that Rhyno attacked her!" Matt cried. "Attacked Lita!"

"She shouldn't have gotten in the way," Angel said quietly.

"Here's your ice, ma'am," a voice beside her said.

She spun to face it. "Thank you." She turned and started to leave the room. Coming here had been a mistake, especially since she really didn't need ice.

"Angel," Jeff called after her, but she ignored him. "Just because you hang with Benoit doesn't mean you're untouchable."

Now Angel stopped and turned back, locking her eyes on Jeff's. "Is anyone?" she asked, before pointedly shifting her gaze to Lita. "Not even the two of you could keep _her_ safe." With those words, she made her exit. Jeff had leaped after her and caught her just outside the door. Angel spun defensively and looked into Jeff's narrowing eyes.

"I didn't want to say this in front of Lita, but what the hell is wrong with you?"

"What the hell is wrong with _me_?" Angel demanded.

"Yeah, you! She's your cousin. Can't you show a little bit of compassion for what happened to her? Don't you care?"

"Is she my cousin, Jeff?" Angel asked, unknowingly paraphrasing Benoit. "Is that was she says or is that what you say?"

"She's your cousin and she's hurt and you don't care."

By now, Angel was furious. "Does she care about me? If it was me in there, would she even stop to check on me?"

"Of course she…"

"Don't lie to me!" Angel cried. "She doesn't care, you don't care, so don't pretend like you do."

"I really don't get you, Angel," Jeff told her. "After all me and Matt told you, you're still friends with Edge and Christian?"  
"Damn straight I am," Angel growled.

"Why?"

"Why? Because, unlike you, Matt and Lita, I have never had a problem with them."

"So you're okay with Rhyno doing this? Spearing women?"

Angel shrugged. "That's what he does. If she can't take it, maybe she shouldn't be out there."

"I don't believe you," Jeff scowled. "You really have some screwed up priorities."

"Priorities," Angel repeated.

"Yeah," Jeff challenged. "Lita is your cousin and far be it from the problems you and I might have, she's still your family and…"

"She's not my family!" Angel snapped, causing Jeff to stare at her in surprise. "She said so herself. And you have no right to be saying any of this to me, after what the two of you said a week ago."

"After what _we_ said?"

"Yeah! I thought you guys were my friends, that you cared. But you said you didn't want to breathe the same air as me. She said she doesn't consider me family. Both of you said you never wanted to look at me again. That hurt, Jeff. That hurt so bad, far worse than a spear from Rhyno ever could. And you expect me to come running back just because Lita yelled at my new friend and any fool can see he doesn't like that? Yeah, Jeff. Edge, Christian and Rhyno _are_ my friends. I had to find some new ones after you guys kicked me out. And they, unlike you, are nice to me. They, unlike you, understand that my thing with Benoit is simply a job and I will never, ever like him. And they, unlike you, have never said anything half as cruel as what you and Lita said to me last week. So, don't tell me who I should or shouldn't care about, Jeff. You don't have the right."

Then, after giving him one last intense glare, she turned to leave.

Suddenly, she heard applause.

"Way to go, Angel face. That was totally awesome."

"Yeah, it reeked of you showed him."

Angel stared at Edge and Christian without softening her scowl.

"Hey, you need a ride back to the hotel?" Edge asked.

"No, I'm not done here yet," Angel growled.

"Whoa, what's with the tone?" Edge asked. "Rainbow Brite has left the hallway."

"I'm not very happy with the two of you right now, either," Angel told them, walking past them and down the hall.

They were immediately on her tail. "Us? What did _we_ do?"

"You let Rhyno attack Lita."

Edge caught her arm and spun her round. "That bothers you?"

"Yeah, it does. She's my cousin and you knew that. I don't blame Rhyno, but the two of you shouldn't have let it happen."

"Hold on a minute," Edge frowned. "I totally don't like this. What about what you just said to Captain Hair Dye of the USS Obsession?"

Angel sighed. "Lita might not consider us family, but I do. What if you were having an argument with Christian and, say, the Big Show came out of nowhere and chokeslammed him?"  
Edge and Christian looked at each other, then back at Angel. "We don't argue."

"No, but if you did."

"I'd say it'd be con-chair-to time."

"Totally," Christian agreed.

"See?" Angel asked. "That's all I'm saying. I'll see you guys round when I've cooled off a bit."

Edge and Christian watched her go, before Christian spoke.

"Dude, that girl's got Fourth of July fireworksness going on!"

"Totally," Edge agreed. "She's so an Aries."

"Aries," Christian mused. "January…February…March…hey, it's like her birthday. Maybe we forgot her birthday and that's why she's being such a prize hosebeast."

"Yeah," Edge nodded. "We should definitely get her something."

"Yeah, like one of our shirts," Christian suggested. "She'd love that. What girl wouldn't, eh?"

"Yeah, and we could even sign it for her."

Christian broke into a grin. "_Mon frere_, that's what I call a totally awesome idea."

* * * *

"Where the hell have you been?" Benoit demanded.

Angel scowled at him. "I went to get ice," she replied, holding it up for him.

"I didn't ask for ice."

Angel dropped it on the floor. "You know what you are? You're an ungrateful little bitch, that's what you are."

Benoit simply raised his eyebrows. "Princess," he said coolly. "Don't blame me for your problems."

"Why not?" Angel asked, just as coolly. "Why should I change things now?"


	32. Blood Brother

Title: Blood Brother

Rating: PG-13 for violence, adult themes, mind games but also please see author's note 2.

Spoilers: 3/29/01 and a recap or two of what happened on Raw

Summary: How does a man beast say he's sorry? And Angel pulls a booking coup.

A/N: Wow, guys. Those reviews? I am totally overwhelmed by all the nice things you've been saying. Seriously, I wrote this story as a challenge to myself and I decided to post it because I was proud of it and I wanted to share it with my fellow wrestling fans, but the fact that you guys like it too just blows me away. Thanks so much!!! *huge smiles*

A/N 2 - Because of the graphic violence, I'm thinking about re-classifying this one and thus the entire story as R. If you want to continue reading it and you can't find it, that'd be because I reclassified it. This also goes for later on when a further reclassification to NC-17 may be necessary…my brain is very warped.

SMACKDOWN! MARCH 29TH, 2001

Angel walked the halls of the Joe Louis Arena next to Benoit, both of them silent.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into a locker room. Benoit looked around, puzzled, then shrugged and continued on his way. She'd be back. She had to be.

* * * *

"Geez, Rhyno, you scared the crap out of me!" Angel cried as Rhyno released her.

He looked at her, his intense gaze showing worry and concern. "Edge says you're mad at me. Are you mad at me?"

Feeling her body tense up, Angel shook her head slowly. "I'm not mad, Rhyno, I'm just sad."  
"Sad?" Rhyno asked. "Sad, why?"

Angel took a deep breath. "You know that girl you speared on Monday night?"

"Gored," Rhyno cut in.

"What?"  
"That's what it's called. A gore. I gored her. I took her down!"

"She's my cousin, Rhyno," Angel informed him.

"Cousin?" Rhyno asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, cousin. She's family."

"Family? Like Edge and Christian."

"Yeah, it _was_ like that."

Rhyno nodded rapidly. "Okay. Okay. I understand. I'm sorry."

"I forgive you," Angel told him.

"No!" Rhyno cried. "Not yet! No!" He started smoothing his hair back and gathering it into a ponytail as Angel looked on, bewildered.

"Hit me!" Rhyno ordered, pointing at his eyebrow. "Hit me right here!"

"I'm not going to hit you, Rhyno."

"Hit me! Redemption! Now! Do it!" He grabbed her arm and guided it towards her head. "Go! Hit me!"

Angel sighed and swung slowly, not wanting to hurt him or her own hand. When she connected, Rhyno reeled back and grunted at her.

"Okay, again! Harder!"

"Rhyno…"

"Hit me!"

Crack! Angel's fist connected with Rhyno's eyebrow and he drew back, crying out animalistically. 

"Yes!" he shouted. "Again!"

"Rhyno!" Angel cried worriedly.

"Again, again, again!" Rhyno ordered.

Crack! Angel hit him again and he panted rapidly, shaking his head crazily. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no! You're not doing it right!"

"I don't understand!" Angel wailed.

"Hit me hard!" Rhyno went racing around the locker room. "I hurt you so you hurt me. Do it! Do it!" He stopped and gathered up a baseball bat, then thrust it at Angel. "Here." He pointed at his eyebrow again. "Right here!"

Angel looked down at the bat in her hands. "No, I don't want to hurt you."  
"Here!" Rhyno insisted, tapping his eyebrow. "Right her. Hit me! Hurt me! Make me bleed! Do it! Do it now!"

Boom! The baseball bat cracked across Rhyno's skull, instantly busting open his eyebrow. Rhyno roared in pain and shock as blood streamed down his face. 

Transfixed with terror, Angel dropped the bat and stared at him openmouthed as he advanced on her. She took a few steps backwards and got ready to run, but he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her into a clumsy embrace.

"You see, Angel? You see? You made me bleed."

"I'm sorry!" Angel cried, now in true fear for her life. Rhyno was psychotic and incredibly strong – anything could happen.

"No!' Rhyno shouted. "No! It's good! You're my friend, Angel, my friend. I will fight for you; I will bleed for you. Bleed! See?" He drew back and splashed his bleeding forehead with his fingers. "Blood! My blood! You did this."

"Oh God," Angel gasped. "I'm so sorry."

"No! I'm sorry! Me!"

Angel drew back as he raised his hands but, instead of attacking her, he dipped his fingers in his own blood. Next he reached out but Angel stepped away again.

"No," he told her. "I won't hurt you. I won't ever hurt you. Not now."

Finally, she didn't move and he gently touched his fingers to her face, drawing a line of blood under each eye. "You're my sister now. We're family. Always. I'll bleed for you, Angel."

Angel stared at him as he watched her insistently. His right eye was closed as the blood flowed over it and his breathing was loud and disjointed.

"Family," he said quietly.

"Family," Angel echoed with a slow nod of her head.

Suddenly, Rhyno began to stumble and Angel leaped over to help him. "We need to get you some help."

"Okay," Rhyno agreed, letting her lead him from the room.

* * * *

"What the hell happened to you?" Benoit demanded.

"Nothing," Angel replied innocently, knowing exactly how she looked, covered almost head to toe in Rhyno's blood.

"Whose ass do I have to kick this time?" Benoit asked.

"No one's."

"That's not your blood?"

"No."

"And you're not hurt?"

"No."

"Then get yourself cleaned up!" Benoit cried. He stepped over to his gym bag and pulled out his towel, then started unbuttoning his Wrestlemania jersey. "You can wear this tonight. Do you have another pair of pants?"

"No. These are black. You can't see the blood."

Benoit nodded. "Now get your ass to the showers. Oh, and princess. Next time you want to walk in here looking like that, you'd better make damn sure it's your own blood because I won't be this nice again."

"I know you won't," Angel replied, her tone both understanding and accusatory.

"Don't come back here until you've got me a match with Angle!" Benoit called after her.

* * * *

Angel stood in front of the mirror, reapplying her makeup. She'd actually considered leaving Rhyno's war paint on her face just to make herself look even more intimidating, but decided against it. She was about to go see William Regal and she had an idea for a match he was just going to love, so she needed him to take her seriously. Instead, she decided to make herself look hot.

When she was done, she left the women's locker room and almost ran straight into Kurt Angle.

"Angel. There you are."

"Stalking me, Kurt?" Angel asked, walking past him.

Kurt stared at her incredulously. "No."

"My mistake." She gave him a conspiratorial grin.

"Oh, I get it. You were joking. That's real funny, Angel. Real funny. Listen, have you thought any more about…you know?"

"Kurt, if it was up to me, you know whose corner I'd rather be in, considering our mutual friends and all."

"Well, I still think you should tell Benoit where he can go. But I can't make your choice for you. I'd really like you in my corner at Wrestlemania, but I know you'll at least be arriving with Benoit. That's why I got you this." He handed her a plastic bag with something inside. "Wear it at Wrestlemania and we'll show everyone, including mister 'thinks he's the best wrestler' Chris Benoit whose side you're on."

"Thanks, Kurt," Angel smiled. "I mean, I can't promise anything, but…"

"I know," Kurt shrugged. "But can you imagine the look on Benoit's face when he sees you? And then, while he's distracted, I'll break his damn ankle!"  
Angel nodded, matching Kurt's sadistic smile. "I guess I'll see you at Wrestlemania."

"You _will_ see me, Angel. Definitely."

Angel broke eye contact and headed off to Commissioner Regal's office.

"My dear Miss Torres! How may I help you today?"

Angel's answer was simple. "Benoit wants Angle."

"Of course, and so he shall have him, come Sunday at Wrestlemania."

Angel shook her head. "No. Benoit wants Angle tonight."

"Yes, I understand that," Regal replied. "But, quite simply, I can not do that. If the fans are willing to pay for the match, I can't give it to them for free. Although, I could put Benoit and Angle on opposing sides of a tag match."

Angel nodded. "Now we're talking."

"Now, let's see here," Regal mused. "How about Benoit and the Undertaker against Angle and Triple H?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Okay, perhaps Benoit and Kane against Angle and the Big Show?"

Angel frowned. "Getting better, but still not quite."

"Well, we don't have infinite options, you know. Tell me, my dear, do you have any ideas?"

This was the moment Angel had been waiting for. "Actually, yes I do."

Regal was surprised. "Then for the love of God, talk, girl, talk!"

"Okay," Angel started. "It's the Smackdown before Wrestlemania, right? We still want people to order it, so why do we just give them boring tag matches with each side representing two feuds which will culminate at the pay-per-view itself? Why don't we give them an interesting match – a tag match, yes, but one where all four participants have a history with one another?"

Regal raised his eyebrows. "Go on."

"Who hates Chris Benoit right now more than anyone else?"

"Kurt Angle."

"Yes, and?"

"I'm not sure that I follow you."

"Eddie Guerrero and the Radicalz!" Angel cried triumphantly. "And who hates Angle?"

"Chris Benoit and…the Rock?"

Angel shook her head. "Remember a few weeks back when Angle broke Scotty 2 Hotty's ankle? Other than Grandmaster Sexay, one man was willing to fight for revenge."

"You don't mean Test?" Regal frowned.

"I _do_ mean Test. And how about Eddie? Who hates him?"

"Well, Test, and Benoit, I'd assume."

Angel grinned. "Well, also Chris Jericho."

Regal waved it away. "Don't you worry about the dear Mr. Jericho. I have big plans for that young man. So, tell me, who hates Test the most?"

Angel cringed. "Other than Eddie, probably you or Albert. That's where my plan falls down. But, you see, Angle hates everyone, so it really doesn't matter. Angle and Eddie versus Test and Benoit. There's a whole lot of hate on each side and a whole lot of history. What do you say?"

Regal slowly broke into a grin. "Marvelous, simply bloody marvelous. My dear girl, that is an absolutely brilliant idea. I will sign the match at once."

"Great!" Angel cried.

"You know, Miss Torres, if you ever decide to leave your managerial role, I'm sure I could find you employment as my deputy."

Angel's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

"Of course I'm serious. But right now you should do and tell Mr. Benoit the good news so he can prepare for his match."

Angel nodded. "Thanks again, Commissioner Regal."

"Not a problem, my dear, not a problem."

* * * *

"You can thank me right now, okay?' Angel announced, entering the locker room.

"Did you get me Angle?" Benoit demanded.

"I got you a tag match against the two people you share the biggest mutual hate with. Well, other than me, of course."

"Kurt and Eddie?" Benoit questioned.

"Exactly. Am I good, or what?"

Benoit ignored her. "You said it's tag. Who's my partner?"

Angel smiled at him. "He is six foot six. He is the WWF European Champion. He is Test."

"Test," Benoit repeated. "Test?"

"Yep, Test."

"You have to be kidding me," Benoit scowled.

"No, what's wrong with Test? He's like twice your size."

"But he's _Test_," Benoit insisted.

"Yeah, and he's a titleholder, which is more than you can say."

Benoit shook his head. "Test. Well, I suppose I don't have to tag him."

"If you want to play that way," Angel shrugged, turning to the mirror. Her hair wasn't quite cutting it today and needed a bit more oomph as it dried, so she pulled out her styling product and started touching it up.

"You play with your hair too much," Benoit announced.

"Least I've got hair," Angel murmured, separating clumps into smaller spikes.

"Have you ever considered just combing it and then leaving it alone?"

Angel broke into a smile. "Oh, that's rich," she announced, turning to face him. "Why would I take hair advice from a guy with a crewcut who used to have a mullet?"

Benoit was dumbfounded. "How do you know about that?"

Angel smirked at him. "I know everything, Benoit. Or should I say 'Pegasus Kid'?"

Benoit's eyes were blazing. "But that was in…"

"Japan, I know," Angel smirked. "That's still no excuse for that outfit."

Benoit was fuming now. "Kane wears a mask."

Angel shrugged. "Kane has a grotesquely disfigured face, or so the story goes. Hey, on second thoughts, maybe you _should_ wear one again."

Benoit's reply was drowned out by a ruckus in the hallway.

"What the hell is that noise?" Benoit demanded, racing to open the door. As soon as he did, Edge appeared, carrying a cake with blazing candles. Christian followed him with a present tucked under one arm and a kazoo in his mouth, playing the birthday song.

"Happy birthday, Angel face!" Edge cried, setting the cake down on a table.

Angel frowned. "Thanks, but it's…"

"Don't thank us yet," Edge cut in. "Just make a wish and blow out the candles. Do it quick before they all melt away."

Angel shrugged, leaned forward and blew. Edge applauded and Christian played his kazoo appreciatively as all the candles went out.

"Thanks, guys," Angel grinned. "But it's really not…"

"Present time!" Edge announced. "Open your present, Angel."

Shrugging, Angel took the gift from Christian and unwrapped it. Inside was a yellow Edge and Christian basketball jersey, signed by both of them.

"Thanks, guys, this is great," she grinned, holding it up. "Hmm," she mused, moving her hands to the buttons of her baseball jersey. "I might even…"

"Don't even think about it," Benoit snapped.

"I guess not," Angel shrugged. "Anyway, guys, what I was trying to say is…"

"Let them all eat cake!" Edge cried. He handed pieces to Angel and Christian. "Wolverine?" he asked Benoit.

"I don't eat cake," Benoit replied darkly.

Edge looked devastated. "How can someone not like cake?"

"He's not too fond of pie either," Angel announced. "Wow, this cake is great. What kind is it?"

Edge and Christian glanced at each other, then spoke in unison. "Angel food cake."

Angel laughed. "You guys. This is awesome!"

Christian grinned. "Were you surprised?"

"Definitely. Especially since it's not my birthday."

"Oh, we know," Christian assured her. "We missed it. That's why we totally had to make it up to you."

Angel smiled sympathetically. "I'm so sorry guys, because this really is incredible, but my birthday was in January. I didn't even know you then. In fact, my present from my family was the trip to America that started this whole thing. So, you really didn't miss my birthday."

Edge and Christian stared at each other with matching frowns.

"Told you it wasn't her birthday!" Edge cried as they made their way to the door.

"Well, you're the one who wanted to get her angel food cake."

"Hey, the cake is awesome," Edge told him, shutting the door after them.

Angel finished her piece of cake, then looked up to find that Benoit was staring at her expectantly.

"They're my friends, not yours," she told him.

"I didn't say anything," Benoit replied flatly.

"No, but you want to. I can tell."

"You're right, I do want to. Test?"

Angel let out an exasperated sigh. "Look, I got you Angle and Eddie. I thought you'd like that."

"I do, but _Test_?"

Angel leaped across the room, turned the TV on, then returned to her seat.

"Smackdown hasn't started yet," Benoit informed her.

"I don't care. You're pissing me off."

Benoit shrugged and sat down, ready to watch as well.

* * * *

"How the hell did Lita do this?" Angel wondered aloud. She was standing in front of the mirror, trying to tie Benoit's Wrestlemania jersey so it showed her midriff.

When there was a knock at the door, Angel kept playing with her clothes. Benoit shook his head at her and went to answer it.

"Test," he said coolly.

"Hey Benoit," Test greeted him. Benoit stepped out of the way to let Test in.

"Cake," Test noted, picking up a chunk. "Cool."

He spun around and spotted Angel, who peered at Test in the mirror, then turned to face him.

"Well," Test smiled, his hazel eyes looking right through her. "Who's this?"

"She's my manager," Benoit informed him.

Test nodded, still looking Angel up and down. "I bet you're real good at managing things," he said quietly, before offering his hand. "My name's Test."

"I'm Angel," she replied, shaking his hand.

"Yes," Test nodded. "You certainly are."

They stared at each other for a moment, which was broken by Benoit. 

"Test!"

"Yeah?" Test asked distractedly, turning his head at last.

"We have a match tonight," Benoit reminded him.

"Yeah, I know. We'll kick some ass, don't worry." He turned back to smile at Angel.

"Angle and Guerrero are no pushovers. We'll need a strategy."

"Whatever you want is fine," Test told him, shaking his head at Angel before lowering his voice. "Is he always like this?"

"Always," Angel nodded. 

"You poor little thing," Test consoled her. "You know, if you came and worked under me I'm sure I could find some things you could probably…manage."

"I'll bet you could," Angel smiled.

"Test!" Benoit snapped.

"What?" Test asked, annoyed, as he swiveled his head towards Benoit.

"I thought you didn't even _like_ women anymore," Benoit challenged.

"Who the hell told you that?" Test demanded, rising to his full height and staring Benoit down. "Tell me! I'll kill them!"

"No, what I mean is, after all that's happened, you don't trust women," Benoit replied, but without an ounce of fear.

"Oh," Test nodded. "You see, I got a theory on that. After what happened with Steph and Trish, I just don't hang out with women with enhanced…assets anymore." He didn't take his eyes off Angel.

"Stephanie has breast implants?" Angel asked.

Test smiled at her as though it was a secret only they shared. "The best money can buy."

"Wow," Angel mused. "Because they look real."

"They feel real too," Test assured her.

"Get out!" Benoit screamed suddenly, causing both Angel and Test to stare at him, wondering who he meant.

"Go wait in the hall!" Benoit ordered Angel.

She frowned. "But I didn't do anything!"

"You're a distraction. Go!"

"Fine," Angel sighed, leaving the room. 

Test watched her go, then turned to Benoit with a confused frown. "Was I stepping on your toes just now? 'Cause I'm sorry, but I didn't get the vibe that you and her were…"

"Listen to me," Benoit hissed. "I want…to talk…about our match."

"Okay," Test nodded, grabbing another chunk of cake and sitting down. "So talk."

* * * *

Angel smiled as she stood against the wall. Test was cute and the eyebrow ring was pretty sexy. Sure, he was a little too tall and he came on way too strong, but a lot of guys did around here. He was definitely a good person to keep in mind, especially since Benoit obviously didn't like him. She was gaining more and more options for her 'Freedom Match' as she'd dubbed it. There was Kurt Angle with his 'Come be _my_ manager, Angel', Rhyno with his 'I'll fight for you, I'll bleed for you', and now Test with his 'work under me and we'll see what you can manage'. All of them were capable of beating Benoit. Angel just had to convince them to do it.

Still lost in thought, Angel peered down the hall and almost collapsed in shock at what she saw. It was Shane McMahon and he was headed right for her.

She smiled endearingly at him, just in case he decided to meet her gaze. To her surprise he did, and even smiled back. But that couldn't prepare her for what he did next. He stopped. And spoke. To her.

"Hi there," he smiled. "You don't happen to work here, do you?"

"Um, well, sort of," she faltered, hating herself.

"Sort of?" he asked, amused.

"Well, yeah. The WWF…they don't own me, but I'm Chris Benoit's manager."

"Really?' Shane asked, truly sounding like he was interested. "That's great. I've been in Benoit's corner a few times myself. He's one hell of a fighter, huh?"

"Yeah, he is," Angel nodded, spellbound that someone as important as Shane McMahon was talking to her of his own free will. Better yet, he'd even let his eyes wander from hers a couple of times. Shane McMahon was checking her out!

"I suppose I really should introduce myself," Shane smiled, offering his hand. "I'm Shane McMahon."

"I know who you are," Angel replied, shaking his hand breathlessly. 

"Of course you do," Shane nodded. "It's hard to stay anonymous when you're the only son of Vincent K. McMahon."

His tone was ironic, not pompous and Angel couldn't help but smile back. "I didn't catch your name, though."  
"My name? Angel Torres," she blurted.

"Angel," Shane mused. "Good name. I like it. So, you're not a wrestler then, Angel?"

"I will be," Angel replied before explaining. "I'm in training."

"Training, huh?" Shane asked. "Chris Benoit's coaching you?"

Angel nodded. "And Steve Blackman, too."

Shane cringed. "Blackman kicked my ass at Summerslam. It's okay. I deserved it. Wow, so they're pretty decent coaches."

"I know."

Shane nodded. "I don't know if you heard, but I just acquired a little wrestling company called World Championship Wrestling."

"Congratulations," Angel said.

"Thank you. Anyway, when you think you're ready for the big time, you should come have a match with us so we can see what you've got. If you're good enough to have Benoit and Blackman believing in you, I definitely want to steal you away before my dad even knows what he's missing." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, which he handed to Angel. "So, when you're ready, give me a call, okay, Angel? Actually, I should take down your name so my assistants don't give you any trouble. It's been known to happen. Angel…what was it?"

"Torres."

"Right, Torres. Done." He snapped his little book closed and put it away. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Angel." He offered his hand again.

"You too," Angel breathed. "Thanks, Mr. McMahon."

Shane drew back with a frown. "Shane is fine," he informed her. "Mr. McMahon is my father's name, and the less I have to share with him, the better."

'Considering you already share the face and the voice,' Angel thought, but what she said out loud was, "Thanks…Shane."

"Angel, it's my pleasure." With that, he gave her one last smile and started his confident walk down the hallway.

Angel looked down at the card in her hand and all she could think was, 'Whoa.'

"Was that Shane McMahon?"

Angel looked up and found she was face to face with Test. "Yeah," she nodded, still somewhat in a trance.

Test scoffed. "He's still a wannabe loser. And to think I almost became his brother-in-law."

"You did?" Angel asked, still not thinking straight.

"I was engaged to Stephanie," Test informed her. "But trust me, Hunter's welcome to her. I'm happily single. Which reminds me, after our match, you should come back to my locker room. I know all my muscles will be sore and I'll need someone to help me rub in some of that cream. If you could 'manage' something like that, I'm sure I could make it worth your while."

Angel stared up at his intense bedroom eyes. "I don't doubt it."

Test nodded appreciatively. "So, I'll see you out there," he said, winking suggestively.

"Bye," Angel smiled, watching him leave before opening the door to the locker room. Benoit opened his mouth to speak but Angel cut him off.

"Before you say anything, _he_ was hitting on _me_. I didn't do anything."

"I know," Benoit scowled. "I just wish other people were as serious about this as I am."

"Don't worry about it. It's Kurt and Eddie. They're tiny. I mean, _I'm_ the same size as Eddie."

"It doesn't mean a thing," Benoit snapped. "I didn't want Test on my team anyway. You should go back to Regal and make it handicap."

"But they'll kill you!" Angel cried.

Benoit shrugged. "At least I know I'll give my all."

"Don't worry about Test," Angel insisted. "He'll do fine."

"You don't know that."

"Yeah, I do," Angel smirked. "He wants to impress me so I'll go back to his locker room afterwards and then, who knows?" She shrugged dramatically. 

Benoit paused and gave her a strange look. "Maybe it _is_ a worthwhile weapon after all," he said thoughtfully.

"What weapon?" Angel frowned.

"Sex."

"No thanks, you're not my type," Angel quipped, before she really understood him. "Wait a minute. I don't use sex as a weapon."

"Of course you do. All women do and if they don't, they should."

"Oh, that's nice," Angel announced.

"It's the 'screw or get screwed' policy'," Benoit explained. "_You_ use it all the time."

"I'm not a slut!" Angel cried.

"I never said you were. I'm just saying you flirt in order to get what you want."

"I do not!"

"Of course you do," Benoit smirked. "Do you want me to name names? Jeff Hardy, Dean Malenko, Test, Raven, and for all I know, William Regal, Edge, Christian…"

"Shut up!" Angel shouted.

Benoit's smirk just increased. "It's fun learning new things about ourselves, isn't it?"

"Shut up!"

"Never try to play with me, little girl," Benoit advised. "Because I will always, always win."

* * * *

Angel and Benoit were waiting in the ring. Still pissed off, Angel refused to look at him and just paced out the ring.

"Test, Test, this is a Test."

Angel looked up at the ramp. Sure enough, her man was coming. He reached the ring and climbed in, not taking his eyes off Angel. She stepped up to greet him and he gripped her hand in a show of solidarity.

"Latino Heat!"

All three people in the ring turned to the stage with scowls on their faces. Eddie Guerrero was not the most popular man in town. 

Eddie stopped at the bottom of the ramp and pointed into the ring. "Hey Test! I'm gonna kick your ass, essa!"

"You wanna come in here and try it?" Test shot back as Kurt Angle's music started and he joined Eddie.

"And you too, my brother," Eddie yelled at Benoit. "I see you still got the puta keeping you busy, huh, essa?"

"What's the matter, Eddie?" Benoit called back. "You wanna come down here and say that? You wanna take shot?"

"Yeah, I wanna take a shot!" Eddie shouted. "I wanna take a shot at that European title 'round pretty boy's waist!"

"Here, can you look after this?" Test asked Angel, handing her his title belt. "I don't want him getting his greasy hands anywhere near it."

Kurt and Eddie finally decided to enter the ring. It was time for Angel to leave.

"Good luck," she smiled at Test, before suddenly giving him a hug, then rolling from the ring.

Test peered down at her in surprise, then switched his focus to Eddie. "Come on, Guerrero! You, me, now!"

"Why don't you come over and get me, huh?" Eddie called back. "Hey, essa goldilocks? You will never have this Latino Heat."

Test fumed and turned to Benoit. "I'm going first."

"The hell you are."

"Let's go, Test!" Angel cried suddenly, clapping her hand on the Euro belt. 

"I'm going first," Test said again.

"Whatever," Benoit scowled, climbing through the ropes.

Test started talking smack to Eddie and was surprised by a quick right hand from Kurt Angle. He forced Test into his own corner, then tagged in Eddie. Once again, Eddie had underestimated Test, who picked him up and dumped him on the canvas, before beckoning him to stand. 

"Come on, little man! Come on, Guerrero!"

Test kept the momentum going with a huge powerbomb, but was stopped when Angel caught him from outside the ropes. Eddie pounced, softening Test up, before tagging in Kurt. This match-up was even, with Test going for the full nelson powerbomb, but Kurt reversed it with a low blow and twisted Test down for the ankle lock.

"Come on, Test!" Angel called, standing in front of him and beckoning him to reach the ropes. Test was about to tap but somehow made it, much to Angel's delight.

"Yeah Test! Way to go!"

Angle released the hold and pointed over at Benoit. "See that? That's what'll happen to you at Wrestlemania, pal!" He then stepped back over to Test, formed the waistlock and sent him into a German suplex, then another, But when he tried for the third, Test reversed it and quickly gained the upper hand.

"Steal my move, bitch!" Benoit shouted. "That's what you get!"

After a few Irish whips, Angle and Test took each other out with clotheslines and the shouting match began.

"Come on over here and tag me, Angle! Come on, essa!"

"Come on, Test! Come on!"

"Get up and tag Benoit, Test!" Angel chimed in. "Tag Benoit!"

Slap, slap, tag in Eddie, tag in Benoit. Benoit easily disposed of Eddie before going after Angle. Slap, a knife-edge chop across the chest and then he formed the waistlock.

"This is how it's done," he sneered, sending Angle into a German suplex, then setting up for another, before being attacked by Eddie, who pinned his arms, allowing Kurt to attack. Test wound up for his big boot, but Angle anticipated it and ducked out of the way. Benoit's eyes widened and he leaped away from Eddie, allowing Test's boot to slam into his former teammate's skull. 

"Yeah, Test!" Angel screamed as Test stood over Eddie, talking smack. Kurt attacked him from behind, tossing him from the ring, only to be himself thrown by Benoit. Satisfied, Benoit nodded, watching Kurt as he backed through the ring. Bam! His back slammed into Eddie's, they both spun around and the fight was on. Eddie tried to throw a punch, but Benoit caught his arm and brought him down, right into the crossface. Eddie tapped out, the match ended and Benoit did not release the hold. This time, Angel didn't mind.

"Kill him!" she encouraged Benoit, actually applauding. "Kill that Latino shit!"

The ref tried to get Benoit to release the hold, but he wouldn't until Angel dragged him off Eddie and applied the ankle lock. Benoit screamed and immediately tapped as Angel gripped Test's title belt and dove into the ring. Finally, Angle released the hold and stood over Benoit, shouting at the top of his lungs. 

"I'll make you tap again at Wrestlemania, pal! And that time I won't let go! I'll break your damn ankle!"

He spun around to leave and his mouth dropped open. Angel stood in front of him, her face a mask of fury and intensity as she gripped the Euro belt tightly, ready to strike.

"Angel, I…"

"Shut up, Kurt!" Angel snapped, rearing back for a good shot. Kurt raised his hands to protect his face but at the last second, Angel stopped and slid the belt along the canvas. Keeping her eyes locked on Kurt, she slowly broke into a smile and held out her fists. Kurt's look of fear changed to his sadistic grin as he brought his fists down on hers, then let her do the same to his.

"See you at Wrestlemania, Kurt," Angel said quietly, stepping out the way so he could leave.

Kurt smile and nodded at her, then switched his focus back to Benoit as he backed out of the ring and up the ramp, followed by Eddie.

Benoit was writhing in agony as Angel stepped past him and dove from the ring again. She reached out and grabbed Benoit's left leg (the one that had been ankle locked) and began to pull him down to the floor.

"Let go! Let go!" Benoit screamed, trying to kick her away with his right leg and desperately grabbing at his ankle. "For God's sake, let go!"

Angel released him and he crashed down onto the floor and his ankle.

"Argh!" he screamed, the pain overwhelming him. He stared at Angel with a crazed look. "What the hell was that?" he demanded, trying to gulp down his agony. "You and Angle! What was that?"

Angel took a step backwards but still stood over Benoit, staring down at him with a truly cold expression. "You might think you own me. You might think you control me. But you never will, not totally. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, I will always be two steps ahead of you. Always!"

She turned on her heel and started up the ramp.

"Later, Test," she called, stepping over where he had fallen and continuing on her way. She didn't look back, didn't even stop until she reached the trainer's room, where she pushed the door open.

"You might want to check on Chris Benoit," she announced. "He's down at ringside. I think he's broken his ankle."


	33. The Girl With The I's

Title: The Girl With The "I's"

Rating: PG-13 for language, angst, violence, mind games

Spoilers: Wrestlemania X7 (2001), including some direct dialogue from Kurt Angle and Kevin Kelly

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters except for Angel. All wrestlers/announcers/interviewers featured were owned by WWFE at the time this took place.

Summary: Benoit thinks he's about to be screwed over, but what you see isn't always what you get.

A/N - A little note on posting - I try to post one chapter every day (of the ones I already have typed up), but I live in Australia so it might seem to anyone who doesn't that I post two some days and none on others. Just an accident of timing. Also, this story is far from over - nothing's been resolved yet, lol! But, if you're wondering, I do have an end point in mind. 

WRESTLEMANIA X-7 APRIL 1ST, 2001

April 1st, 2001. Wrestlemania X-7. The biggest ever and the granddaddy of them all. Six titles were on the line. A Rock versus Austin main event, TLC II and a match to decide who was truly the greatest technical wrestler in the WWF. One thing was for sure. It was going to be good.

Angel dressed slowly, covering the rest of her outfit with Benoit's Wrestlemania jersey. He'd been a complete asshole in training since Thursday, punishing her relentlessly for what she'd done on Smackdown and knowing it was the only place he could get away with hurting her physically without having to let her go.

'He's smart, alright,' Angel thought, rubbing her neck, which had been injured so many times these past few days she was beginning to wonder if it was still there. 'But I'm smarter and I think he's finally starting to realize that.'

As if on cue, Benoit appeared in her doorway.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked evenly, refusing to meet her gaze.

"Do you know how to knock?" Angel snapped, reaching for her gym bag.

"Are you ready to go?" Benoit repeated, enunciating each word clearly.

"Oh, Benoyt," Angel smirked. "I was born ready."

"Then get your ass moving," Benoit scowled, turning and leaving.

Angel looked down at her outfit. For the occasion she'd even gone for blue pants rather than her usual black ones and, with the jersey, she was all set for Wrestlemania. Smiling to herself, she shouldered her bag and followed Benoit from the room.

* * * *

"Hi Kevin Kelly." Angel gave him a winning smile as Benoit glared at her out the corner of his eye.

"Hello Angel," Kevin Kelly replied. "How are you enjoying your first Wrestlemania?"

Angel grinned. "It's great. I love it!"

Kevin Kelly started to say something else, but was silence with a deadly glare from Benoit.

"Are you interviewing me, Kelly?"

Kevin Kelly nodded nervously.

"You think we could start today? Before my match, perhaps?"

Kevin nodded again.

"Good," Benoit said coldly, before turning to Angel. "Wait over there, keep your damn mouth closed and don't even think about moving."

Angel smirked at him, then walked away without a word.

Benoit turned back to Kevin Kelly, who was watching Angel with a frown on his face. 

"Ask me a damn question," Benoit demanded.

"Um," Kevin stuttered. "Uh." He pointed and Benoit turned around. Angel was nowhere to be seen. "She's gone," Kevin finished lamely.

Benoit took a deep breath. "I can see that. Now, ask me about my match with Angle before I give you a preview of the move that's gonna make him go tap…tap…tap so fast he'll look like a damn bunny rabbit!"

Kevin gulped. "Yes, sir."

* * * *

Angel raced down the hallway before Benoit noticed she was gone. She had to see her friends and wish them luck before their match and this could be her only chance.

She burst into their locker room, calling their names breathlessly.

"Edge, Christian, Rhyno!"

The three of them turned to her worriedly.

"Angel, what's wrong?" Edge asked.

"Are you hurt, Angel?" Rhyno demanded.

"No, no," Angel shook her head. "I just had to come see you guys before your match."

"Aw, that was sweet of you," Christian smiled. "Sit down, we're talking strategy."

Angel nodded and sat down next to Rhyno.

"Okay," Edge grinned, standing up. "How many times have you and I won the tag titles, Christian?"

"Six."

"That's right. How about those dorks the Hardyz?"

"Four times."

"And the damn Dudleyz?"

"Three."

"Right again, my brother. So, what does that mean?"  
"We reek of awesomeness?"

"Totally. But that's not all. We know that Matt's so going to bring his little girlfriend and the Dudleyz have Spike – that's if either of them are out of hospital after what Rhyno did, right, Rhyno?"

Rhyno nodded rapidly, his breathing heavy.

"But you see," Edge continued. "We don't care if they do bring along their little screwjob machines, because ours is totally Screwjob Version 9.9, the ultimate model. We have the Rhyno, the man beast and he totally weighs the same as Lita and Spike put together."

"More!" Rhyno announced. "I weigh more!"

"Okay, he weighs more," Edge agreed. "And, unlike Loser and Strike, there's no stopping this man. The Hardyz hit him with a ladder. Did he care? No, right back up. Twist of Fate onto a steel chair. Did he stay down? Not this man. And finally, the 3-D through a table. Did that stop him? Well, yeah, for a little while it did, but the point is he's back up today, ready for more. We've gotta be like that, Christian. No matter what they throw at us – tables, ladders, even chairs, we have to get up and fight back. Whatever happens – if you're thrown off a ladder you get back up - Buh Buh bomb through a table, get back up. If you're fighting gladiator-style for the belts and you get knocked down, you get up, grab a ladder and knock the other guy down too! Whatever it takes – even if you have to breathe your last breath of air – even if this is our last match ever. When we leave this arena as seven-time tag team champions, we know for sure, it'll all be worth it."

Christian smiled psychotically. "Yeah!"

Angel stared at Edge but couldn't focus. Until now she really hadn't understood what TLC was about – she'd thought it would be just another match, certainly no worse than that awful table match on Smackdown Xtreme. But now, she saw it clearly. The facts were simple. Six men, and quite likely eight and a woman, were going out to a ring where anything was allowed and tables, ladders and chairs were the order of the day. Of the nine, how many would return unharmed? Angel seriously doubted that any of them would. They would be fighting with standard ladders, painter's ladders, steel chairs and strong wooden tables with metal supports. There were insane heights involved as they fought to climb a ladder and reach the title belts. All of them had said they would risk their lives and all of them, some more than others, yes, but all of them were crazy enough to do just that. Of the nine, three were her friends, two had been once and one was her cousin. She cared about all of them, she really did. She didn't even know the Dudleyz but they were people too and she certainly didn't wish them any harm.

"I don't want you to die," she gasped but no sound came out. All color had drained from her face and she was hyperventilating. 

Rhyno turned to her with a frown. "Angel, are you okay? Are you okay?"

"Whoa!" Christian cried, spotting her. "She's totally about to hurl!"

Suddenly, the world went gray and Angel slumped forward.

All three jumped over to help her.

"Put your head between your legs!"

"Breathe, dudette, breathe!"

Finally, Angel managed to sit up again, a dazed look on her face. Edge was crouched in front of her.

"You blacked out on us," he told her with a sheepish grin.

Angel suddenly leaped forward and threw her arms around him as she burst into tears.

"Whoa!" Edge said. "Easy, okay, easy. It's okay, it's okay."

With Edge's help, Angel sat back on the bench, wiping away her tears and trying to control her breathing. 

"What's the matter, dudette?" Christian frowned. "You're like, totally bawling."

"I know," Angel whispered. "I'm sorry, but I have something to say." She put one hand on Christian's leg and looped her other arm through Rhyno's gripping Edge's hand with her own. "Whatever happens tonight," she started. "Now matter what happens, I need you guys to know that you're my friends and I really, really care about you. I need you to know that."

The three of them grinned.

"We know that, Angel face," Edge told her, reaching out and squeezing her chin.

Angel was still serious. "I need you to promise me you'll be careful."

"Angel, it's a TLC match," Edge started but Christian cut him off.

"We'll be careful. We've done this before. Don't worry."

Angel nodded frantically. "Okay," she smiled. "I just, I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

"It won't," Christian assured her. "We totally promise."

"Edge?" Angel asked. 

He held up his hand. "Sea Scout's honor."

"Okay," Angel smiled. "Okay."

"Angel face," Edge said. "You know that if Lita…if she gets involved, we can't promise she won't get hurt."

"I know," Angel nodded.

"It's for the titles," Edge continued.

"Yeah, I know. I mean, I don't want her to get hurt, but if I was her I wouldn't be going anywhere near the match so…" She trailed off.

"You're awesome!" Christian announced.

"Thanks, Christian. You're awesome too."

Suddenly, they heard the door open and there stood Chris Benoit. He stared darkly at Angel, held out his hand and beckoned her. When she gave no signs of moving, he strode across the room, reached over Edge and pulled her up by the front of her jersey. Then he gripped her by the back of the neck and marched her to the door.

"Don't!" she cried, feeling the pain shoot through her again.

"Shut up!" Benoit snapped, not even pausing.

"Hey!" Edge cried. "Don't do that! Be careful with her!"

"Yeah!" Christian added. "She's like sick, dude!"

Benoit ignored them, still stepping towards the door. Behind him, Rhyno started to snort and fume. He took off, but Benoit had already reached the door, so all Angel could hear with a huge crash as Rhyno slammed into the door and then into the ground.

Moaning quietly, Angel had no choice but to let Benoit guide her along.

* * * *

Benoit didn't let go of Angel's neck until they reached the locker room.

"You're sick?" he demanded skeptically.

"Yeah, I'm sick," Angel snapped, still trying to swat his hands away. "Sick of you."

Benoit let out a growl and threw her into the corner of the room. Her back hit the wall and she slid down onto the bench, crying out a little.

"You wanna act like a child, I'll treat you like one," Benoit fumed. "So sit there, shut up and listen to what I have to say. If you think, if you even entertain the possibility of screwing this match up for me, I will make you more sorry than your tiny little mind can even comprehend. Do you hear me? Well, do you?"  
Angel glared up at him as he stood imposingly over her. "I'm not afraid of you."

"No?" Benoit asked, raising his eyebrows. "No? Well, let me tell you something, little girl. You should be. I could shatter every bone in your body using only my hands." 

"And if you did, I'd go free," Angel replied evenly.

"Free," Benoit repeated, breaking into a smirk. "Trust me, princess. If that's the way I choose to go, freedom will be the last thing on your mind. You'd be a lot more worried about whether you could breathe using lungs that are broken up with hundreds of tiny rib fragments, whether your brain would bust out of a crushed skull, whether you could ever walk again on legs that are broken in so many places the doctors have to practically do a jigsaw puzzle to put them back together again. And as for that face that so many people around here love? Well, I bet you don't even want me to start with that. Don't worry. If I decide to let you go that way, I guarantee it will be worth my while."  
He grinned at her sadistically as she just glared back, her face voice of fear, voice of everything, everything except hate.

"Forget me," she scowled. "You're the one who's sick."

"Maybe I am," Benoit shrugged. "And maybe now you'll think twice about trying me again."

Angel just sat motionlessly, staring up at him and waiting for him to get tired of looking at her. Eventually, he did.

"Stay right here and don't say a word until it's time to go," he ordered, before breaking into his smirk again. "Or maybe I _will_ let you go tonight."

Angel just shook her head and sat still. It was going to be a long night.

* * * *

Angel stood silently with Benoit, waiting for Kurt to finish addressing the crowd. 

Benoit was in the zone.

"Let him talk," he murmured. "I don't need words."

Neither did Angel, it seemed. She said nothing as they made their entrance, nothing as they walked down the ramp, nothing as they climbed into the ring. Like Benoit, she let her actions do the talking. On the way down the ramp she slowly unbuttoned her jersey, unseen by Benoit. When she climbed into the ring she ripped it off to reveal a red tank top with the words 'Angle Angel It's True!' emblazoned on it in white letters. Then she stepped up to Angle, shared a smile with him and they touched fists.

Benoit was livid. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

Angel smirked at him. "Good luck, Benoit. You're gonna need it," she gloated, before rolling from the ring.

Benoit frowned at her for a moment, then focused on Angle again. No matter what the little bitch was doing, this was Wrestlemania and he had a match to win.

Kurt was trying to psych him out. 

"You see that? I got _your_ manager to tow the line. Not even _she_ thinks you have a hope!"

Angel frowned at them as they circled each other before locking up. Tow the line? Obviously, Kurt didn't know it was she who was using him. It didn't matter. If Angel had her way, he'd never know.

"Let's go, Kurt!" she cried, applauding confidently.

Angel frowned as Kurt and Benoit scrambled over one another.

'What the hell is this?' she wondered. 'Why aren't they punching each other?'

Most of it was circling each other, taking each other down and then clambering around on the mat before getting up to do it all over again. Five minutes in and she'd only even seen one suplex, by Kurt, which she applauded. Technical wrestling sure was weird.

Suddenly, Benoit went for the crossface, but Angle anticipated it and draped his arm over the rope before Benoit even locked on. Angel nodded as the referee forced Benoit to let go. 

Again they scrambled, again Benoit went for crossface and again Angle was right next to the ropes. When Benoit released, Kurt climbed from the ring and paced around outside.

"Come on, Kurt. You can do it!" Angel encouraged him, with chants of 'Angle sucks!' still filling the air.

Eventually, Kurt was ready to go on, climbing back in the ring to start again. Another takedown and again Benoit went for the crossface. This time he locked it on and Angle reached frantically for the rope. But the second he grabbed it, it fell out of his grasp and it was several more grabs before he had it again.

Benoit argued with the ref for telling him to break the hold as Kurt got to his feet, a confused look on his face. He peered down at Angel, who was looking up at him coolly from where his hand had touched the rope.

"Let's go, Kurt," she said, clapping her hands.

Angle nodded to himself and turned back to Benoit, decking him with a hard right to the head. Angle picked Benoit up and dumped him from the ring as Angel cheered from the other edge. Kurt paraded Benoit around, bouncing his face off the barricade and then the Spanish announce desk, before whipping him into the steel steps. Kurt stood over Benoit's prone body then threw him back into the ring again.

A couple of kicks to the kidneys, then a suplex before a cover brought a two count. Another suplex, another cover and another two count, before Kurt felt himself being dragged by the leg. He stood quickly and gave Angel a suspicious look, but she was poker-faced and cheering him on solemnly, so he turned to Benoit again.

"Come on, Kurt!" Angel cried as Kurt continued to wail on Benoit, until he was stopped and forced back with three knife-edge chops. But Kurt wasn't done, meeting Benoit and sending him into a belly to belly suplex.

"Whoo!" he cried, raising his arms as Angel cheered wildly and the crowd booed.

Another suplex, but this time, Benoit reversed the Irish whip into a clothesline.

Finally, Benoit gained the upper hand, making three confident covers for three two counts.

"Yeah, Angle!" Angel cried as he somehow raised his shoulder after the superplex.

Benoit went for three Germans, but Kurt countered the last into the ankle lock. Somehow Benoit broke the hold, pulling Kurt into an ankle lock of his own. Kurt broke it, but Benoit applied the crossface, only to get a reversal into a schoolboy and then Kurt applied the crossface.

Benoit cried out, desperately trying to move his hand and then his foot towards the rope. Suddenly, he felt his foot being lifted from the canvas and then the ref was telling Kurt to break the hold. Benoit looked up and found that his foot was on the rope. He knew he couldn't have gotten there himself, which could only mean...

"Come on, Kurt!" Angel cried, staring back at Benoit with cold eyes.

Kurt grabbed Benoit by the leg, but Benoit kicked out, knocking both Kurt and the referee down. He pounced on Kurt and applied the crossface.

Angel started tapping on the apron, still cheering Kurt on. Kurt took the subliminal message and went with it – he tapped.

But the ref was down and Benoit lost his patience, stepping over to ask what the hell was going on. While he was distracted, Kurt caught him from behind and sent him into the Olympic Slam, then made the cover. Benoit raised his shoulder, much to the crowd's delight.

Kurt was devastated but went for the powerslam, then climbed up top for the moonsault. Angel raised her arms to signal Kurt's flight, screaming out, "Moonsault!"

Benoit heard her and lifted his knees, just as Kurt flew, slamming them into his stomach.

"Let's go, Kurt!" Angel cried as Kurt writhed on the canvas. 

Benoit found his feet and spread his arms. It was headbutt time. He nailed it, but did as much damage to himself as he did to Kurt. Still, he made the cover, but somehow Kurt kicked out.

"Yeah, Kurt!" Angel cried, wondering how long this was going to take.

Benoit went for more Germans, but Kurt countered with an illegal low blow and then an armbar takeover into a cradle. One…two…three.

Angel's mouth dropped open. Benoit had lost.

Angle raised his arms as his song played and quickly vacated the ring.

"Way to go, Kurt," Angel smiled as he passed her and continued up the ramp. He never looked back. Perhaps he should have.

Suddenly…crack! A steel chair slammed across his head and he spun around, dazed, to meet with another chair shot, and then a third. Then his attacker was gone, racing back down the ramp.

Kurt Angle watched in complete bewilderment as Angel leaped into the ring, still clutching the chair. Benoit eyed her warily as she slammed it into the canvas and glared at him, signaling her intentions. She raised the chair again, then…

"Here, catch!"

She threw the chair to Benoit, then furiously ripped off her tank to reveal the 'Prove Me Wrong' tube top.

Next she raced over, leaped onto the ropes and shouted, the ring mics carrying her voice around the stadium and onto television.

"I'm damn useful to have in your corner, Kurt. But if you want me, you gotta earn me!"

With that, she turned back to Benoit.

"All that help I gave you and you _still_ couldn't win?" she asked incredulously.

"He pulled my tights down!" Benoit cried.

"So?"

"You can't do that!"

"I just hit him with a chair. You think you can do that? But I just did it."

Benoit shook his head. "Sometimes I really don't get you."

Angel nodded smugly. "I know. Let's just keep it that way, okay?"

* * * *

Kurt Angle was being interviewed by Kevin Kelly.

"Kurt Angle, what a grueling war with Chris Benoit. You may not like the man, but you have to respect him for what he did to you tonight. What a brutal contest it was."

"Respect? Are you crazy? The better man won out there. I mean, please, he had to get a little girl to help him out and he still couldn't beat me. He tried to cheat, but I beat him fair and square one, two, three in the ring. Now I've proven to everyone that I am the best wrestler…"

Wham! Suddenly, Benoit struck him from behind and brought him down into the crossface, making him tap frantically. It took several refs to get Benoit to break the hold and when he did, he turned on Angel.

"Next time, don't help."

She frowned at him. "First you want me to help and I won't; then, when I do, you don't want it anymore? What's your problem?"

"Kurt Angle thinks he's better than me. That's my problem."

"Whatever," Angel shrugged. "I'm going to catering to watch the rest of the show. Shane is going to kick Vince's ass!"

Benoit regarded her coldly. "I'm going to shower and then I'm going back to the hotel."

"You do that," Angel agreed. "I'll bum a ride with someone, or I'll get a taxi." What she didn't add was, 'just get the hell out of my sight.'

"Taxi," Benoit repeated, rolling his eyes. "Some chance." He started to leave, then stopped. "Make sure you get that jersey back from ringside. I am not buying you another one."

"I'm sure I can find someone to give me one," Angel murmured, but Benoit didn't hear her. He was gone.

* * * *

Angel buried her head under her arms as the people around her oohed and aahed at the TLC match. She refused to look because, every time she did, someone she cared about got hurt. All she could hear was crashes as people got drilled through tables and ladders slammed into other, and she still refused to look. Then, after almost twenty long minutes…

Ding! Ding! Ding!

"You think you know me…"

Angel sat bolt upright. "You're kidding me!" she cried, leaping to her feet. "Oh my God!" She ran, sprinted through the backstage area and down the ramp, past Matt Hardy and Buh Buh Ray Dudley's motionless bodies. She jumped onto Rhyno, who was trying to help Edge stand.

"You did it! You did it!" she screamed, hugging him tightly, before going for Edge. He cried out in pain and Rhyno grabbed her away.

"Angel," he said quickly. "Go help Christian. Help Christian." He pointed across the ring where a ref was trying to do just that.

Angel nodded. "Okay." She clambered through the ring, past Jeff Hardy, past D-Von Dudley, and finally found Christian. She ducked under his left arm, also helping him hold his title belt as a ref supported his right and they walked him together, over the steel steps, past Lita and towards the ramp.

"I've got him," she told the ref, realizing that the three of them wouldn't be able to get past the tables that littered the ramp.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I've got him."

"Okay." The ref let go and went to check on Matt and Buh Buh instead.

"You did it, Christian, you did it!" Angel cried as he stumbled drunkenly up the ramp, clutching at her for support.

"Yeah," was all he could manage, grimacing from the pain.

He fell down once and she helped him up before they finally made it to where Edge had collapsed, right at the top of the ramp. Christian stumbled forward to hug his brother and they all sat together, marveling over what had been achieved. It was some time before any of them moved.

* * * *

Angel waited as doctors checked out Edge, Christian and Rhyno. Each of them had injuries, but none were serious enough to require hospitalization, which was good news.

Then she waited again for them to shower and change. Even though they now had fast-acting painkillers working in them, each task was long and took a lot of effort. Angel would have helped but they actually don't take too kindly to women in the men's showers, despite what you might think. So she waited for them to finish, then helped pack their bags and even drove them back to the hotel in Edge's rental car. When they got there she walked them to their rooms - Rhyno first, then Christian and finally Edge.

"Angel face," he said as she was about to leave. "Stay a while. I want to talk to you."

Angel nodded and stepped back into his room. 

"Okay, Edge," she smiled. "Let's talk."

"Right," Edge nodded, the drugs somewhat addling his brain. "How can I put this? Oh, I know. What you did tonight so totally reeked of sucktitude I can't even…well, I can't even go there!"

Angel looked up at him, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Kurt's our friend. You don't do that to our friend."

"Oh. Kurt."

"Yeah, Kurt. And what you said earlier, about caring about us no matter what happened, that wasn't even about us. That was totally about Kurt."

"It was both," Angel admitted, eyes downcast.

"Yeah, see, I know you were tight with the Hardyz and all, but I still didn't expect you to turn out to be such a total reekazoid hosebeast."

Angel took a deep breath. "Look, Edge. You're drugged up and sore and I'm pissed off and tired, so let's just get some sleep and talk about this tomorrow."

"No, I don't wanna talk about it tomorrow. Kurt is our friend and by hurting him, you're totally hurting us."

"I'm sorry," Angel said. "But I had to."

"You didn't have to screw Kurt," Edge frowned. "And by screwing Kurt, you screwed us."

"Rhyno pulled the screwjob on your match," Angel protested.

"That's totally different. Rhyno's on our side."

"So am I!"

"No, you're not. Not if you screw Kurt."

"I had to do it, Edge," Angel said again. "It's my job."

"Your job?"

"Yes. I'm Benoit's manager. Just like your job tonight was to win the tag titles, mine was to help Benoit beat Angle, whether I liked it or not. We both did what we had to do."

Edge frowned at her. "Well, you know what? Your job totally reeks."

"Yes, Edge. Yes it does."

With that, she left the room and headed back towards her own, hoping with all her power that Benoit was already asleep. She certainly didn't want to deal with any more of _his_ crap tonight.

************************************************************************

A/N - No more postings until at least Sunday, but most likely Monday. Sorry if it seems like I'm leaving you hanging, but I'm going to Global Warning!!!


	34. Benoit? Human?

Title: Benoit? Human?

Rating: PG-13 for language, violence, mind games, adult themes

Spoilers: For the date given

Disclaimer: I don't own any WWF/E superstars. I had the chance to own Billy Kidman, Torrie Wilson and Edge, but there were too many people around and I didn't have any candy I could use to lure them ;-P

Summary: Angel learns something she never knew about Benoit but still pursues her plan relentlessly.

A/N: That's right, I'm back from Global Warning. It was awesome and I met the superstars named in my disclaimer at the markets. Edge was a little aloof (though he liked playing with the kids) but the other two were just lovely. I kind of feel bad for what I do to them later in this fic, but hey, I play with the characters, not the people, which segues me nicely to A/N 2

A/N 2 - This chapter is the closest (along with another certain something used later) that this fic gets to real person fic. While it's my intention to focus on the characters at all times, I will sometimes bring real life thingies into it. Any characters from these people's real lives that I may mention or even use are just that, characters, included to make my story more interesting (at least I hope so) and are usually portrayed non-specifically, although if I know names I will sometimes use them. I have never met any of these people (except Kidman, Torrie and Edge, lol) and do not harbor any ill feelings towards them whatsoever. That said, on with the fic…

RAW IS WAR, APRIL 2ND, 2001

When Angel woke up, her mind was focused and clear. Today she had one goal – work on her three men. Although she'd been telling the truth – she wasn't afraid of Benoit, she also knew very well that he too had spoken the truth. If he wanted to kill her, he could kill her. She had to get out and hopefully, in the shape of Kurt Angle, Test or Rhyno, she had the key. Each of them had strong motivations that she'd picked out almost immediately – Kurt with jealousy, Rhyno with loyalty and Test with lust. 

Rhyno would be the easiest – just point him in the right direction and send him on his way. But if Edge had been talking to him it could be very bad. The other problem with Rhyno was the same one that had lost her Team eXtreme – friendship. By pitting Matt, Jeff and Lita against Benoit she'd lost them. She didn't want the same to happen with Rhyno. So, despite the fact that Rhyno was the easy answer, he had to be her last resort.

Especially after last night, Kurt would be the hardest, but, if Angel could pull off her plan, he was the one who had the best chance of winning. After all the times she'd helped Benoit, Angle had still won, and that was the other thing. Kurt was willing to cheat, and cheat subtly in order to be victorious. That was the kind of person Angel needed to fight for her. She knew, even if Kurt didn't, that he didn't even want her. He just thought he did. Once she was working for him, he'd realize 'oh heck, I don't need a manager after all. I mean, I'm an Olympic freaking gold medallist'. And he'd let her go. It was the perfect solution – she just had to make it happen.

Test had been a surprise, and he was somewhere in the middle. She'd have to keep working on him, just in case things with Angle didn't work out.

Angel just lay in bed, thinking, plotting, and planning, until her alarm sounded. It was time to go to training.

* * * *

Angel thoughtfully tapped her head with her pen. After another strenuous training session she'd showered and dressed and now sat on her bed with a notepad in her lap, thinking of the right words.

"What are you doing?" Benoit demanded.

Angel lifted her eyes and found him standing in her doorway.

"That's really none of your business," Angel informed him.

"No?" Benoit asked, taking a few steps into the room. 

Angel hurriedly gathered up her notepad and glared at him as he continued to approach.

"If you must know, I'm writing to my parents. If I post it today it should get there by Easter. There, are you happy?"

Benoit physically stopped in his tracks, nodding at her thoughtfully. "If you're ready to go a little early, we'll hunt down a post office on the way to the arena."

Angel frowned her surprise. The thought that she now had two letters to write slipped quickly out of her mind and was replaced by something else. 

"That's uncharacteristically nice of you," she blurted.

Benoit shrugged, unaffected. "Family," he said simply.

Angel stared at him quizzically. "Do you have family, Benoit?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"Of course I have a family," Benoit scowled. "What the hell do you think?" He glared at her, challenging her to make some snide remark about robots.

Angel shrugged indifferently. "You just never talk about it."

"Well, do you ever talk about yours?" Benoit challenged.

Touché. "Okay," Angel said evenly. "Let's talk about family."

Benoit just stared at her expressionless, waiting for her to ask, knowing that now the topic was up, she had to know. It was killing her.

She hid it well. "You seem to think you know all the ins and outs of my romantic life, so what about you? You got a girlfriend, Benoit? A boyfriend, perhaps?"

Still standing solemnly in the doorway, Benoit slowly raised his left hand. There, on his ring finger, was a wedding band.

"Bullshit!" Angel cried. "No way. You're married?"

Benoit just nodded, eyebrows raised.

Angel shook her head in disbelief. "How have I never seen that before?"

"I take it off when I fight," Benoit informed her. "I don't want to lose it."

"No shit," Angel muttered, giving him a strange look. "Who the hell would marry you?"

Benoit was used to her crap and didn't even raise an eyebrow. Instead, he reached for his wallet and threw it at her. 

Angel frowned at him uncertainly and picked it up, then slowly opened it. The dark eyes of a brunette woman stared at her from a photograph.

"She's pretty," Angel mused, switching her gaze to the other pictures in what was almost a collage. "Kids, too?"

Benoit nodded again.

"Wow," Angel breathed, closing the wallet and tossing it back to him. "You mustn't see them very often."

"I see them," Benoit replied quietly.

"Not since I've been your valet, and that's more than a month now," Angel challenged.

Benoit simply shrugged. "I see them," he repeated.

Now Angel wore a frown again. "How can you be so nonchalant about this? Your wife is gorgeous, far better than you deserve, and that baby is absolutely beautiful. If I were you I'd want to be with them every second. I'd go home between Raw and Smackdown, Smackdown and Heat, or if I couldn't I'd bring them on tour with me."

"Then it's a damn good thing you're not me, isn't it?" Benoit said a little testily.

"Some things are more important than winning and grudges and titles!" Angel cried.

"No, princess. That's where you're wrong."

"But they're your family, Benoit!"

"And I told you I see them!" Benoit snapped.

Angel shook her head furiously, setting her gaze and her jaw before she spoke. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised," she said slowly. "After all, you're a lousy boss. Of course you'd be a lousy husband and a lousy father."

"Shut up!" Benoit screamed, his face bright red. "You are neither my wife nor my daughter, so don't you dare pass judgement on things you know nothing about. You hear me? Don't you dare!"

With that, he slammed the door closed, leaving Angel alone.

She scowled to herself furiously. He may have been pissed with her, but she was pissed with him too. Pissed that he could be so detached about people he was supposed to love. But what upset her more was the fact that it wasn't this that she was the most pissed about, even though it should have been. Benoit had a family. He wore a wedding ring and kept pictures of them in his wallet, so no matter how he treated them, it was clear that he cared, at least on some level. And that made him human. The last thing Angel wanted was to humanize Benoit. It made her feel – what – regretful about what she was going to do? Regretful? Impossible! Benoit wasn't human – he was a monster. A brutal, uncaring, unfeeling monster. Ange she was going to escape from him, no matter what. Still scowling, she tore off the top page of her notepad and started to write.

Kurt,

I know you're probably wondering why I did what I did last night. The short answer is, it had to be done. It in no way reflects how I feel towards you; I was simply doing my job – a job I could be doing for you. My situation with Benoit is complicated, and there are really only two ways out of it. What we tried last night isn't one of them. I refuse to compromise my integrity just because I hate Benoit. There is a way out, though, and, if you're still interested, I want to discuss it with you. If you can forgive me for what I did, meet me in the hotel bar after Raw and we'll work out where to go from there. If you don't show, that's okay, I guess I'll be stuck helping Benoit against my will forever.

Hope I see you,

Angel

* * * *

Benoit hadn't spoken to her all day. He was truly, truly pissed. True to his word, he'd found a post office and waited as Angel mailed a hurriedly scrawled note a to her parents. He also picked up her meals, as usual, but these were the only recognition of her existence he was giving. Sometimes he'd stare at her coldly and other times he refused to meet her gaze at all, but he never spoke and it was driving her insane. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore and broke the silence.

"I'm going to go see Regal now."

Benoit didn't even acknowledge her words.

"Any preferred opponents?"

No answer.

"Come on, you know you want a piece of Angle again."

Still no response.

"Fine," Angel mused. "You stay here and sulk. But I'm not going to listen to you complain if I can't get the match you want."

She stormed off before he could respond, even if he had been talking.

* * * *

Knock, knock, knock.

Kurt opened the door. "Angel, what the heck…?"

"Here, Kurt, read this," Angel cut him off, thrusting the note at him. "Or get someone else to read it for you, it really doesn't matter." She started off again.

"What are you trying to say, that I can't read? Well, you listen to me, Angel. I could make you…"

"Just read it, Kurt!" Angel called over her shoulder, not in the mood to stop and find out exactly what he could make her do.

"Commissioner Regal, here I come," she muttered. It was going to be interesting. Regal had never seen her pissed off before and she didn't know whether she could restrain herself.

"Hello there, Angel."

She stopped at the voice. It was so soft and deliberate it could penetrate the iciest silence. She slowly turned, a smile on her face at last.

"Hi Test. How are you?"

"I've been better." He sighed melodramatically and pointed at his waist, where his title belt should have been. "See? I'm naked."

"I'm sorry," Angel replied sympathetically. "I really wanted you to win."

Test shrugged. "These things happen. Doesn't matter. I'll be getting my own back tonight when me and a couple of other guys kick the crap out of the Radicalz. Which reminds me, are you busy right now?"

"Well, I've gotta go see Regal and get a match for Benoit, but that can wait."

"Great," Test smiled. "Then follow me."

* * * *

"Test, about time you showed up," Faarooq grumbled.

"Relax," Test smiled. "I brought another player."

"Kat's friend!" Bradshaw cried. "I'll play with her any day."

Angel smiled at the Acolytes and Jackie. "Hey guys. Congratulations on beating RTC last night. I only wish I could have been there to help."

"You can help me by losing a few rounds, honey," Bradshaw informed her.

"So, this is cool?" Test asked.

Faarooq nodded. "Yeah, it's coo. Sit your asses down and let's get started."

Angel sat next to Test as Faarooq dealt the cards.

"White girl, you wantin' a cigar?" Jackie asked.

"No thanks," Angel smiled, peering at her cards and discarding three of them.

"Beer, honey?" Bradshaw offered.

Angel nodded slowly. "I won't say no."

"Okay!" Bradshaw grinned as Angel reached for a beer. "No, sugar, I got this one special just for you." She reached for it just as he flipped the top and it sprayed all over her, drenching Benoit's Wrestlemania jersey, which a nice referee had retrieved from ringside and returned to her. "Yee haw! Honey, it looks like you're takin' a handicap into this game. You're gonna wanna get out of that wet shirt real fast!"

After flapping about urgently, Angel summoned all her dignity and calmly wiped her face dry. "A little bit of beer never hurt anyone." To prove it, she grabbed a beer from the table, opened it herself and took a long swig. "Show us what you've got, guys."

Test leaned into her. "Are you okay?" he asked, chuckling quietly.

Angel smiled at him. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"  
Test shrugged. "If that had happened to Trish, she probably would have started crying or something."

"Well," Angel smiled. "I'm not Trish."

Test nodded approvingly. "No, you're certainly not. I've got two pair."

Angel peered down. "Two nines." She suddenly realized that everyone was staring at her. A cold dread washed over her and it wasn't just from the beer shower. "I lost, didn't I?" She didn't need an answer. "Well, Bradshaw, it looks like you get your wish. I'm losing the shirt."

"She's losing the shirt!" Bradshaw cried joyfully.

Angel stood up, unbuttoned her jersey, removed it, folded it neatly and hung it over the back of her chair. "Bring it on!" she cried, sitting down again.

"It looks better off you anyway," Test whispered.

Angel smiled at him. "I know. It doesn't suit me. It's Benoit's."

Test frowned. "You know, I couldn't get a straight answer out of him, but are you and him…?"

" Me and Benoit?" Angel cried incredulously. "God no! He's got a wife somewhere up in Canada. I need two, thanks, Jackie."  
"And how about you?" Test implored her.

Angel grinned at him, running her tongue over her teeth. "I don't have a wife."

Test nodded, an interested smile on his lips. "Good. Neither do I."

"You think you people can show your cards now?" Faarooq asked.

"Simmer down, you grumpy old drunk," Jackie argued. "The young folk is having theirselves a moment."

"I don't care what they're doing!" Bradshaw cried. "I wanna see Kat's friend get nekkid!"

"Test, what you got, brother?" Faarooq asked.

"Three of a kind," Test replied, slamming his cards down without taking his eyes off Angel.

"Angel?" Faarooq questioned.

Before Angel could answer, Bradshaw cut in. "From where I'm settin' I can see she's got herself a pair and they be lookin' mighty fine!"

Angel stared at him smugly. "Two pair, actually."

"Two pair?" Faarooq asked, gathering up the cards as Bradshaw removed his shirt, having lost the round. "Now that I'd like to see."

It was Test's turn to deal. He sent the cards flying round the table and Angel frowned at her hand.

"What do you need?" Test whispered, barely audibly.

"A miracle, by the looks," Angel frowned.

Suddenly, Angel felt some cards tapping her in the back. 

"Trade you," Test murmured.

Angel quickly switched cards with him, knowing her new hand couldn't possibly be any worse. Their hands touched briefly and Angel's eyes flickered up to Test's. Had he felt that? She dismissed it. It was probably just because they were flirting so heavily.

She peered down at her new cards and her eyes almost fell out of her head. "I'll take one, thanks, Test," she said calmly.

"One it is," Test replied.

"What you got, honey?" Bradshaw asked hopefully.

Angel laid out her cards. "Four queens."  
Bradshaw let out a low whistle. "That beats my two fours."

"Three aces," Faarooq announced. "Two of each man," Jackie said, holding up kings and jacks. "Test?"

"I got nothing," Test shrugged, gathering the cards.

Jackie was not impressed. "Just because you brought your woman, it don't mean you gotta stack the deck, boy."

Test nodded smugly and pulled off his shirt. "If I was stacking, do you really think I'd have made myself lose?"  
Jackie stared at his perfectly sculptured body. "That's exactly what I'm sayin'."

"Hold on one minute," Bradshaw protested. "You ain't his woman, are you?"

Angel smiled over at him. "I'm no one's woman," she told him. "Not yet, anyway."

Bradshaw blinked, then gulped down a can of beer in one go. "Deal out them cards, honey. I have a feelin' your luck's about to run out. And mine? Well, it's just startin'!"

Angel dealt her round and turned to Test. "Don't you wanna see me 'nekkid'?" she asked, mimicking Bradshaw.

Test just smiled. "Sure I do. I just don't want anyone else around when it happens."

"You're very sure of yourself."

Test shrugged. "When you know what you want, why shouldn't you be?"

"And what is it you want, Test?"  
Test lowered his gaze. "I shouldn't have to spell it out. You're a smart girl."

"Okay, everybody, lay 'em down!" Bradshaw ordered. "And while I'm talkin' about layin'…"

* * * *

"Uh oh," Angel said as she lost yet another round. She was all out of footwear. It was time for the big choices.

"Take your top off!" Bradshaw encouraged her. "I've been waitin' and waitin'."

"Sorry," Angel shrugged. "It's going to have to be the pants."

"Don't apologize for that!" Bradshaw cried. "Hot damn, but this is one of my better days."

Angel slowly removed her pants and sat down again. One more loss and she was in big, big trouble.

"Damn, girl," Bradshaw mused. "You're hotter than Death Valley in July."

Angel gave him a dazzling smile, but she was starting to freak out. Unlike Kat, she really wasn't the public nudity type.

She held her arms by her sides as Jackie dealt the round, hoping she wasn't trembling too noticeably. 

Test shot her a sideways glance, then slowly raised his hand to her forehead. "You're sweating," he smiled.

"I'm in deep shit," she admitted, sounding so worried he moved his hand over hers.

"Don't worry. You've got a bra under that tube top, don't you?"  
Angel said nothing.

"Well," Test grinned. "You better start praying."

The APA talked amongst themselves, giving Angel and Test time to remember they were in a card game. For some time now, they hadn't just been entertained by the strip poker game. They were watching the Test and Angel show.

"If they start necking on the table, I'm leaving," Faarooq announced.

"I'm not," Bradshaw replied. "I wanna see some gettin' it on!" 

"How many cards y'all need?" Jackie asked. 

Angel's moment of truth had arrived.

"Four," Angel blurted. Test gave her a sympathetic frown. That couldn't mean anything good.

"Let's do this quick and painlessly," Angel suggested as they all got ready to show their cards.

"Painless for you, maybe, honey, but I'm about ready to have a heart attack!" Bradshaw told her. 

"Two threes," Angel said quietly. The others looked at each other before Bradshaw let out a whoop of delight.

"Take off that top! Oh yeah, it's bra and panties time! Kat's friend is getting nekkid!"

Angel was absolutely crushed. She got to her feet and put her hands on the bottom of her tube top, ready to pull it off. She pulled the bottom away from her flesh, unable to meet anyone's gaze.

"We forfeit!" Test cried, leaping to his feet and putting his body between Angel and the APA.

"You can't do that!" Bradshaw cried.

"Oh no?" Test asked.

"No," Faarooq agreed as Angel started putting all her clothes back on. "You can't forfeit once a round's been played."

"I'll do it for her then," Test shrugged, reaching for the front of his pants.

"No!" Bradshaw cried.

"You can't do that either," Faarooq told her.

"No?" Test questioned. "Well, in that case," he shrugged, turning to Angel. "I suggest you run."

Angel didn't have to be told twice. She was out of there.

"Dammit all!" Bradshaw cried, throwing his hands onto his head. "So darn close!"

"Next time, Test," Jackie started. "Leave your woman behind."

"No," Bradshaw protested. "Next time she should leave _him_ behind."

"Amen to that, brother," Faarooq agreed, gathering the cards. "Another round?"

"I'm in," Bradshaw replied.

* * * *

Angel raced down the hallway, not stopping until she was sure the Acolytes weren't on her tail.

She was grateful for what Test had done, even though she knew his motives were completely selfish. He wanted her and he didn't want to share. That didn't bother her. A jealous, overbearing boyfriend might be very useful if Angle didn't show at the bar tonight.

Suddenly, she stopped.

"Oh shit!" she cried, racing down the hall. She threw the door open and started talking breathlessly. "Commissioner Regal! Commissioner Regal!"

Regal looked up, alarmed. "Miss Torres, for heaven's sake, calm down and tell me what's the matter."

"Okay." Angel gulped in a big breath of air. "I need a match for Benoit."

Regal stared down his nose at her. "Where on earth have you been, child? Raw has started, the card is full and my hands are tied."

"The card's full?" Angel blurted.

"Yes, I'm afraid so."

"No," Angel shook her head. "There must be some way. What's on the card?"

Regal peered down at his papers. "Stephanie versus Trish, Kane versus Val Venis, the Radicalz versus Test and the APA."

"What about Angle?" Angel cut in. "What's he doing?"

Regal broke into an evil smile. "Kurt Angle and myself will be meeting Chris Jericho in a handicap match. It seems the grubby little toe rag couldn't find himself a tag partner. Say, Chris Benoit wouldn't be interested, would he?"

Angel almost said yes, before remembering. "Are you kidding? Chris Jericho? His mortal enemy?"

"Yes, I suppose you're right," Regal agreed. "That is a pity, as it's really all I can offer you, I'm afraid."

Angel thought about it again, before shaking her head. "No, he'd kill me if I got him put on Jericho's team."

"He most certainly would," Regal nodded. "Well, I'm sorry, you'll just have to tell him there's to be no match tonight."

Angel bowed her head in resignation. "Okay. Sorry for wasting your time."

"That's quite alright," Regal consoled her. "I can tell you take your job very seriously, which is a refreshing change. May I make a suggestion?"

Angel nodded solemnly.

"Since I couldn't help you tonight, why don't I let you have first choice of matches for Smackdown? Whichever opponent you and Chris Benoit choose, you may have. Will this help you get your chin up?"

Angel broke into a small smile. "That's very kind of you."

Regal nodded. "You don't have to make a decision right away. Discuss it with Mr. Benoit and return to me on Thursday with your choice. What do you say?"

Angel's smile increased into her trademark smirk. "I say, Stone Cold's in trouble."

"That's the spirit. I'll chat with you again on Thursday."

"You bet," Angel nodded. "Thanks, and good luck tonight."

"Oh, we won't be needing any luck," Regal mused as Angel started to leave. "Miss Torres? Alcohol is never the answer."

Angel paused in the doorway before continuing. Great. Another thing for Benoit to get shitty about. She probably absolutely reeked of beer and cigar smoke. Shaking her head gloomily, she returned to the locker room.

* * * *

As soon as she opened the door, Benoit was glaring at her. But it wasn't the look of death from before; now it said just one thing. Where the hell have you been? He didn't even have to say it. 

Angel bit the bullet. "You don't have a match."

"What?" Benoit screamed, finally breaking his silence.

"You heard me," Angel said evenly.

"No, actually, I don't think I did. Because I _think_ you said you didn't get me a match. But if that's the case, you'd know better than to be standing in front of me right now."

"What do you know," Angel said sourly. "I guess you _did_ hear me."

Benoit reached out and grabbed her by the neck. "You have one chance to tell me you're kidding and you got me a match with Angle."

Angel shook her head frantically, her hands flying to her throat. "No," she choked. "I'm not kidding."

Benoit twisted his grip and threw her across the locker room. She hit the ground with a thud.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I tried."

"You tried? You didn't try damn hard enough!"

"I asked Regal, but he said the card was already full," Angel said, trying to keep her cool.

"Full? Full? I am Chris Benoit and the card is full? What the hell is the matter with Regal?"

Angel said nothing as Benoit stepped over and stood right in front of her, staring her down furiously. "Kurt Angle. I'll bet Kurt Angle has a match. Doesn't he?"

"Yeah, he does."

"Yeah, he does!" Benoit repeated. "Who has the pleasure of Kurt Angle's company tonight?"

Angel swallowed. "He and Regal have Jericho in handicap."

"Jericho?" Benoit cried, disgusted. He straightened up and started pacing the room. "Jericho?" he snapped again, pausing to glare at Angel. 

She just nodded.

"Grr!" Benoit screamed, punching the wall. "Let me get this straight! First…first he steals my intercontinental title, and now he steals my opponent? Jericho!"

Benoit stormed back over to Angel and lifted her to her feet.

"You better be telling me the truth, little girl. If I find out you were just too lazy to get me a damn match your life's not even going to be worth living!"

"I said I was sorry!" Angel scowled. "Get out of my damn face already."

Benoit drew back, a strange expression on his face. "Have you been _drinking_?" The way he said it, he might as well have been asking if she'd been screwing sheep.

"I had a few beers with the Acolytes," Angel shrugged.

"What?" Benoit demanded. "You mean you didn't get me a match because you were _drinking_?"

Angel stared at him indignantly. She now had to lie through her teeth just to save her ass. "I knew you'd be pissed when I couldn't get you a match…"

"You're damn right I'm pissed!" Benoit cut in.

"Can I continue?" Angel asked.

Benoit just scowled at her.

"So, when I left Regal, I didn't want to have to come back here and put up with your shit so I went to visit my friends. We had a few beers but don't worry. Since you don't have a match it won't affect my performance as valet."

"Why the hell didn't you just come back?" Benoit demanded.

"Because I knew you would be like this. Can you blame me? Besides, whether or not I came straight back, you still wouldn't have had a match so it doesn't matter. So, just deal with it, Benoit. Deal with it."

"Deal with it?" Benoit screamed. "Sit your ass down!"

Angel frowned and sat on the bench. "We're not leaving?"  
"No. We are gonna watch every damn minute of Raw, you and me. And we are going to watch Jericho in his damn match against Angle, and then, when it's over, I'm going to go see Regal personally and find out why the hell he couldn't find room on his card for me. I mean, what is this?" he cried, signaling the TV. "A whipping match? What the hell is that?"

Angel just fixed her gaze on the TV. She may have enjoyed goading Benoit, but she also knew when to keep her mouth shut. And now was one of those times.

* * * *

Only a few minutes after Angel and Benoit started watching Stephanie, Trish and their whipping match, there was a run in.

"Jericho!" Benoit screamed, throwing a water bottle at the TV. Thankfully, it missed. "He's everywhere! Jericho's everywhere!"

Angel just shook her head at him. She already knew his obsession with Jericho bordered on the ridiculous and she'd had about enough of his ranting.

At that moment, the door flew open and Rhyno burst into the room. His eyes focused on Angel and he raced over, picked her up and put her over his shoulder.

"Angel, my sister," he panted. "I have a match. Come see my match."

Before she could respond he was carrying her to the door.

Benoit immediately jumped in the way. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Rhyno gave him a single, crazed glance, reached out the arm that wasn't holding Angel, and pushed Benoit to the floor. 

"I have a match," he said again, stepping over Benoit and out the door. "She's coming to my match." 

The door slammed shut but Benoit leaped to his feet and threw it open. She stared furiously at Rhyno's rapidly disappearing form.

"Little girl, get your ass back here!" he screamed. "Get back here!"

* * * *

"He has a woman, I wanted a woman too," Rhyno explained as they reached the backstage area.

"Who is it, Rhyno?" Angel asked.

"Holly, it's Holly," Rhyno replied. "You're in my corner okay, Angel?"  
"Holly?" Angel frowned. "Wait a minute, Rhyno. I don't know whether I want to…"

"You're in my corner!" Rhyno insisted, giving her a little squeeze to show there was really no arguing.

"Okay," Angel said quickly.

Rhyno set her down at the bottom of the ramp and she quickly stepped up next to Molly.

"You came with that thing?" Molly asked, frowning.

Angel nodded solemnly. "I didn't have much of a choice."

"So, you're not his friend, then?"

"Yeah, I am. Well, not exactly. It's kind of strange. He's strange."

"It doesn't matter," Molly grinned. "'Cause cousin Crash is going to beat him down!"

For a while it looked like 5'7", 220 pound Crash was going to do just that as he punched Rhyno, then brought him down with swinging head scissors. Crash holed him up in the corner, then sent him for an Irish whip, but Rhyno reversed it, tossed Crash into the corner and went for the gore. Luckily, Crash leaped out the way and went up top for the missile dropkick. He nailed it and celebrated but Rhyno leaped back up, yelled maniacally and hurtled his body into Crash's. Yet another gore. Rhyno made the cover and just like that, it was over. It had taken only one minute.

"I don't think so, mister!" Molly muttered, leaving Angel's side. She was headed for the corner and started climbing to the top.

"Molly, that's not a good idea," Angel warned her.

"Relax, Angel," Molly smiled. "I've got it covered. Nobody beats a Holly and gets away with it."

Angel just shook her head as Molly focused on Rhyno and took off. She performed a nifty little flip which brought Rhyno down so she was sitting on him, then jumped up again to check on Crash.

"Are you okay, cousin? I got him for you."

"RHYNO!" Paul Heyman's voice cut across the arena like thunder.

Molly heard it and turned around and then – BAM – Rhyno slammed into her and crushed her into the ground, knocking her out cold.

Angel gripped the ropes anxiously. Not again. Last week Lita, this week Molly.

Rhyno raised his arms in victory, then leaped from the ring before looking over at Angel. "Angel, I'm finished. Let's go."

Angel frowned at him. "Just…just a minute, okay?"

Rhyno looked confused. "A minute?"

"I mean, I'm glad you won, I just…I'll catch you up later. I want to stay out here for a while."

Rhyno nodded rapidly. "Okay." He turned and started up the ramp as Angel climbed into the ring. She knelt down beside Molly's fallen body.

"Oh, Moll," she said sadly, sweeping a strand of blonde hair from her friend's face. "I told you not to do it."

She was pushed aside by EMTs as they loaded Molly onto a stretcher and carried her back into the trainer's room. She'd come to by now and was sobbing quietly, too dazed, weak and sore to move. Crash and Angel solemnly continued the procession, saying nothing, keeping their eyes on Molly.

By the time they reached the trainer's room, Molly was sitting up as the EMTs talked to her, shone lights in her eyes and ran various other tests. 

Molly was absolutely miserable. "Crash?" she called out, looking around despite the people trying to work on her. "Where are you, cousin?"

Crash stepped up. "I'm right here, cousin."

Finally, Molly broke into a smile. "Can you get my things from the locker room? They want me to go to hospital, but I want you to come with me and I need my stuff."

Crash nodded worriedly. "Sure, Molly. Anything you want." He quickly ran off.

Molly still looked around the room, finally focusing on Angel. "Angel, what happened out there? Can y'all stop swattin' at me?" she added, frowning at the EMTs. "I'm okay."

"You jumped on Rhyno, so he gored you," Angel explained as the EMTs started to worry about Molly's memory loss.

"Oh," Molly replied with a nod that made her cringe from pain. "He didn't know well enough to stay down, huh? He wants some more of me? Well, don't you worry, mister. There's always next time."

"Molly, what are you talking about? He knocked you out!"

"Yeah, he got lucky this time," Molly agreed. "But next time I can guarantee I'll show that boy a thing or two."

"You're not seriously thinking about challenging Rhyno?" Angel asked.

"Sure I am!" Molly cried. "I'm not afraid of him. I'm a Holly and Hollys ain't afraid of anyone!"

"But it doesn't mean you have to go looking for trouble. Rhyno's more than twice your size."

Molly stared at her, puzzled. "No, he's not."

"Yes, he is, Moll," Angel insisted.

"Uh uh." Molly shook her head. "We're about the same. I know it. Howard Finkel and Lilian Garcia announce his weight different so he's either two seventy or two eighty-five. So, either I'm only giving up ten pounds or he's giving five to me. We're evenly matched. It's just whether or not he's too yeller to take me on because Hollys do not back down from a fight!"

Angel stared at her sadly. She honestly believed what she was saying. "Molly, you're not that big."

"I am too! Two hundred seventy-five pounds…"

"No, Molly," Angel shook her head. "You're about one thirty, one forty at most."

"Angel, maybe that's how much you weigh, and that's fine, you don't have to feel bad about that, but I've worked mighty hard to get this big and believe me when I tell you I'm almost three hundred pounds. You want me to prove it? Feel my arm! It's like a rock – pure muscle."

"Molly, listen to me," Angel said gently. "You don't weigh three hundred. You don't even weigh two hundred. No women around here…"

"Me and Chyna both!" Molly cut in.

Angel nodded. "Well, Chyna maybe, but not you. Chyna's six foot tall. You're not."

"Sure I am," Molly insisted.

"Molly," Angel sighed, before turning to the EMTs. "Is she allowed to stand up?"

"If she wants," one of them replied. "But don't push her too hard. She probably won't remember any of this come tomorrow."

Angel nodded at him. He obviously thought that what Molly was saying was due to her concussion. But Angel knew better. Molly was her closest friend now and she really cared about her. Someone had to set her straight about this. Otherwise she'd just keep on getting hurt like she had tonight.

"Molly, stand up for a moment."

Molly bounced to her feet and looked up at Angel curiously.

"I'm five foot nine," Angel explained. "You're shorter than me."

Molly shook her head. "You must be mistaken, Angel. Don't sell yourself short. You're well over six foot."

"I'm five foot nine," Angel repeated.

Molly's face slowly fell. "Well," she shrugged. "It's not about height anyway, is it? It's about muscle and I've got plenty. Crash is also shorter than you and he's way over four hundred pounds!" She said it with complete conviction.

"Crash is the light-heavyweight champion," Angel started.

"Uh uh," Molly protested. "Super-heavyweight."

"Light-heavyweight," Angel insisted. "He beat Dean Malenko. Have a look at what his belt says some time. Crash weighs about two twenty. If he weighed four hundred they wouldn't even let him compete in the division."

Molly paused. "No, you're wrong," she said quietly, but without the confidence of before.

"Crash is two twenty and you're about one forty," Angel went on. "It's nothing to be ashamed about. It's just the way things are."

"No," Molly whispered as tears filled her eyes. "You're wrong. You're wrong."

"I'm not, Molly. And we both know it."

Molly let out a heart-wrenching moan. "No," she wailed as her tears overflowed. She began sobbing loudly, her whole body shaking.

Angel watched her sadly. Molly was hurting now, but she was tough. She'd get over it. It was definitely for the best.

Crash chose that moment to return. He took one look at his weeping cousin and raced to her side, discarding their gym bags on the floor.

"Molly! Cousin, what's wrong? What happened?"

Molly was sobbing too much to talk. All she could manage to gasp out was, "Angel."

Crash turned on Angel furiously. "What did you say to her?"  
Angel sighed. "I told her she weighs one forty and that you weigh two twenty," she replied coolly.

"You what? Why did you do that?"

"Because, if I didn't, she'd keep picking fights and getting hurt, just like today."

"Hollys never back down from a fight," Crash informed her.

"I know. That's what she said too."

Finally, Molly raised her head from Crash's shoulder.

"It's not true, is it, cousin?" she asked pleadingly.

"Oh Moll, of course it's not true. We're Hollys. We're heavyweights and super-heavyweights. We can take anyone."

"I know, Crash. That's what I was trying to tell her."

Crash glared over at Angel. "I think you should leave now. And don't be talking to my cousin anymore. She don't need your kind screwing with her head."

Angel frowned at him. "I was only trying to set her straight."

"You don't know everything," Crash snapped. "So go, just go. Molly doesn't need you anyway."

Angel raised her hands in surrender. "Forget this." Every time she tried to do the right thing, she got chewed out. She strolled down the hall, shaking her head furiously. Maybe doing the right thing was overrated. She opened the door to the locker room, scowl in place. It perfectly matched Benoit's expression.

"Don't start with me," she snapped. "I'm not in the mood."

"You don't valet for other people," Benoit replied. "That was our deal."

"It was Rhyno. You were welcome to try and stop him."

"Just don't do it again," Benoit warned.

Angel ignored him and sat on the bench with a thud.

"Where have you been anyway? That match ended at least twenty minutes ago."

"I was busy losing my best friend," Angel scowled. "I seem to be making a habit of it."

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "Rhyno's your best friend?"

"No, Rhyno's my brother," Angel replied, her voice dripping with either annoyance, sarcasm or both. "Molly was my best friend."

"Molly. What did you do, tell her she's little?"

Angel said nothing.

"You did?" Benoit smirked. "You called a Holly small?"  
"I told her she weighed one forty," Angel said quietly.

Benoit started chuckling. "Princess, are you insane? She's a Holly!"

Angel glared at him. "You enjoy the fact that I keep losing all my friends, don't you?" she asked evenly.

Benoit nodded, smirk still in place. "About as much as you enjoyed it when I lost mine."

Angel fumed. "You're a jackass."

Benoit just laughed and turned to the TV. His smile quickly faded. "There you are. I've been waiting all night."

* * * *

"Oh! Jericho's getting his ass kicked!" Angel cried.

Benoit didn't take his eyes off the TV. "You think that's funny."

"Yeah, I do, actually. And so should you."

"Don't tell me what I think," Benoit muttered. "Kurt Angle is a whining, cheating piece of shit. I'll bet he even cheated at the Olympics. And as for Regal? No place for me on the damn card when we have a whipping match and even Crash Holly gets ring time? What the hell is that?"

Suddenly he leaped to his feet and started for the door.

Angel watched him coolly. "You going to get soda? 'Cause I want one."

"Shut your damn mouth!" Benoit snapped over his shoulder as the door slammed shut after him.

Angel stared at the closed door. He hadn't made her go with him? That was a first. Maybe he was finally, finally getting tired of her. God knew she was trying hard to piss him off. 

Suddenly, William Regal's music filled the air and Angel turned back to the TV to find that he and Kurt were kicking Jericho. Regal's comments about winning not being as important as destroying your opponent came into her mind and she broke into a grin. He was dead right. Chris Jericho could rot in hell…with a broken ankle, she amended as Kurt locked on his submission.

At that moment, Benoit leaped into the ring and first decked Regal before chasing Kurt. But Kurt was on the ball and escaped just in time. Benoit turned to punch an advancing Regal and chased him, too from the ring. Then he stood on the apron and shouted at Angle, but Angel wasn't good enough at lip-reading to make it out.

"What the hell is this?" Angel cried aloud. "Benoit's saving Jericho?"

It was clear that Jericho was equally puzzled as he stared warily at Benoit and climbed to his feet. The two blue-eyed Canadians stared at each other for a long time from opposite corners of the ring and no one seemed sure whether they'd come to blows. Eventually, after an intense eye contact session, Jericho dropped to the canvas and rolled from the ring. He then backed up the ramp, eyes still focused on Benoit, who watched him carefully. Then the TV cut to Shane McMahon's visit to WWF New York and Angel was left to wait.

"I see you got a little workout after all," Angel mocked as soon as Benoit returned.

Benoit ignored her comment. "Come on," he said, reaching for his bag. "We're leaving."

"I thought you wanted to talk to Regal."

"I already did," Benoit replied moodily. "Now, let's go."

Angel grabbed her bag and followed him. "And I see you made a new little friend. That's nice for you."

Benoit spun to glare at her. "Chris Jericho is not my friend."

"Are you sure? Because the two of you…"

"Look! Just because I have bigger enemies than Jericho right now does not make him my friend. Do you hear me?"

"Yeah, I always do when you shout."

Benoit simply turned his back on her. She was not going to get a rise out of him this time. He had much more important things to worry about. Like how to deal with Regal and Angle. And the fact that he'd helped Chris Jericho. That fact made him sick to his stomach. He'd had his reasons, of course, but did they really justify what he'd done? Coming to the aid of a man he hated with every ounce of his being. A man who'd humiliated him time after time with his pretty pictures and nursery rhymes. A man whose career, and indeed life, Benoit had tried to end over and over and over again. A man who, along with his very own manager, still so frustratingly hard to crack, was the only one even remotely close to proving Benoit wrong. Jericho!

"I should've let Kurt break his damn ankle," Benoit murmured as he continued on his way.

Jericho. The thought of being on his side made Benoit nauseous. And yet…Jericho had proved a worthy foe – could he be a useful ally? Anything was possible.

"Jericho. Impossible!" Benoit muttered, pushing the door open and heading towards the parking lot. "Impossible!"

* * * *

Angel looked around the bar, but Kurt was nowhere to be seen. She'd thought it would be hard to get past Benoit, but it wasn't. He'd barely batted an eyelid when she'd slipped past him with the very lame excuse that she was going to get some air. He was just too deep in thought. What about, Angel didn't know…or care. What mattered was that she was at the bar. But Kurt wasn't and that was bad news. She was already dreaming up ways of working on Test when the barman approached her.

"Howdy, ma'am."

"Hi," she smiled. "I don't want anything just yet. I'm waiting for someone."

"Are you Miss Torres?" the barman asked, saying her name with the cool inflection that could only come from a Texan.

Angel nodded curiously.

"Message for you, ma'am."

"Thank you," Angel frowned, taking the paper from him. She read it quickly and put it in her pocket, nodding to herself calmly. "Okay, Kurt. We'll play your way this time. The end justifies the means."

She climbed down from her barstool and headed off.

* * * *

Knock, knock, knock.

Kurt opened the door and regarded her coldly. "Angel, so glad you could come."

"Kurt, just cut the crap and let me in," Angel replied. "I don't have much time."

Kurt stepped back and let her enter the room. Angel stopped short. There, sitting comfortably in Kurt's hotel room, were Edge and Christian. She hadn't banked on this.

"Hey, Angel face," Edge greeted her, his grin more sinister than usual.

"Hi dudette," Christian nodded, also wearing a grin.

Angel switched her gaze between them and Kurt. "How do I know you aren't going to kick the crap out of me?"

Kurt grinned evilly. "You don't. Sit down," he continued, indicating the bed. "You want to talk, let's talk."

Angel nodded and sat down. Their body language was creeping her out. Kurt didn't even sit, while Edge and Christian looked barely restrained, as if ready to pounce.

"I want you to be my manager," Kurt said at last. "What is that going to take?"

Angel heaved a sigh of relief. "You'll have to take on Benoit again. One on one."

"What?" Kurt frowned. "But I already beat him once."

Angel shrugged. "You'll have to beat him again. You don't think you can do it?"

"Of course I can do it!" Kurt cried. "I just…"

"You don't want to?" Angel asked. "Okay, see you later. And I thought you'd want the chance to prove your dominance over him. Everyone says you cheated at Wrestlemania. That you pulled his tights."

"I did not cheat!" Kurt cried. "I beat him fair and square, one, two, three in the ring and that is true."

Angel shrugged. "Look, we both know that, but people have been talking and this way you can prove yourself. You can prove him wrong."

Kurt nodded thoughtfully. "What kind of match are we talking?"

"Normal stipulation match. One fall. Winner gets me as his manager."

"But Benoit already has you. He'd really go for that?"  
Angel smirked. "He has to. I'm his manager. I sign his matches."

Kurt mirrored her grin. "What do you guys think?" he asked his bodyguards.

"About Angel face?" Edge questioned. "We love her. And Rhyno does too."

"So I should have her as my manager?"  
"Totally," Christian nodded.

"And just think, Kurt," Angel continued. "You could destroy Benoit. You could put ankle lock on him and snap his ankle and you'd get me too. You'd take away everything he has, and you'd destroy him!"

Kurt didn't need any more convincing. "I'll do it."

"Excellent!" Angel grinned. "I'll set up the match. All you have to do is win it."

Kurt gave her an ironic frown. "Like that's going to be a problem."


	35. Rhynette In Holly's Clothing

Title: Rhynette In Holly's Clothing 

Rating: PG-13 for mind games, adult themes, language and some violence

Spoilers: For the date given, including some direct dialogue by Edge and Christian

Summary: Through some more manipulation, Angel's plan begins to come to fruition

A/N - For those of you who miss Jeff, he's in this one, briefly. I never actually intended this to be a Hardyz fic, but my muses told me otherwise and yes, they do play important parts throughout.

SMACKDOWN, APRIL 5TH, 2001

"Hey gorgeous," called a voice.

Angel was sitting and silently eating her food as Benoit sat opposite, watching her like a hawk. There was no dumping vegetables under the table when he was around.

"Test," Benoit said coolly.

Test frowned and gave him the quickest glance. "I didn't mean you. I meant this one." He stared down at Angel as she smiled back and moved her stuff a little.

"Take a seat," she offered.

"Thanks." Test set down his food and sat beside her. "How you been, Angel?" he asked, facing her and consequently turning his back on Benoit. 

"Better now," she smiled back. "Hey, I wanted to thank you for what you did at the card game the other night. Saved my life."

"Yeah, but I ruined Bradshaw's," Test grinned. "No problem. Like I said, I don't want to share you around."

Angel nodded. "Well, it still meant a lot to me, even though they probably didn't know I was down to my last layer."

"Oh, they knew," Test told her, reaching over to her plate. "Can I?"

"Sure," Angel nodded. "And what do you mean they knew?"

"She's supposed to eat all that food," Benoit growled from across the table, but he was ignored.

"Bradshaw knew," Test continued. "That time when he made you lean right over the table to get a beer just so he could look down your top? I was ready to fight him then and there for that chance."

Angel gave him a winning smile. "You want to look down my top, Test?"

Test slightly averted his gaze. "I want to do more than that."

"Sometimes," Angel said softly, staring right into his eyes. "All you have to do is ask."

At that moment, Benoit got to his feet, scowling dangerously. "I have no time for children," he spat, before leaving.

"Finally, he's gone," Test smiled. "He's a real drag. And how much does he make you eat?"

"A small village, every meal," Angel deadpanned.

Test grinned. "Good sense of humor."

"Necessity," Angel nodded. "I mean, I'm Chris Benoit's manager."

"Why?" Test asked suddenly.

"What?" Angel questioned.

"Why are you Benoit's manager? You don't even seem to like each other."

Angel shrugged. "It's good money. And anyway, it's not permanent. I might be getting out soon."

"You say it like it's prison," Test frowned.

Angel nodded coolly. "If it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck and waddles like a duck, chances are it's a duck."

"But Benoit's not a duck," Test told her.

"No," Angel grinned. "But he does rhyme with one."

Test grinned back. "He sure does. Anyway, it's good to see you smiling. You don't seem to smile much when Benoit's around."

"You don't smile much ever," Angel told him. "I've noticed, anyway. Just when you're talking to me."

"We all need someone who makes us smile," Test said thoughtfully.

"Tortured souls," Angel agreed.

"Two of a kind," Test added.

"And a damn fine pair they are too!" Angel cried in her best Bradshaw voice.

Test chuckled quietly, giving her the once and then twice over. 

"I want you," he said at last.

"I know," Angel replied quietly.

"So, what's the problem then?" Test frowned.

"Problem?"

"Yeah, I mean what kind of a doggy leash does Benoit have on you? Not that leashes are so bad. With the right person, I might definitely be into that."

Angel frowned. "Oh, that's romantic."

"You want romantic?" Test asked. "I can do romantic. Do you know how I first asked Stephanie out?"

Angel shook her head. Test? Romantic? This she had to hear.

"I was out in the ring with my buddies and I called her out there, in front of everyone, wearing my heart on my sleeve. And I held the microphone so everyone could hear what I was going to say."

"And what _did _you say?" Angel asked, suddenly riveted.

"I don't remember exactly. It was two years ago and that time in my life I kind of tried to block out. But I think it was something like 'Stephanie Marie McMahon. Please say you'll make me a better man and agree to go out with me.' And she said yes, and the crowd went wild."

Angel felt a little surge of excitement. "That is so sweet. What if she'd said no?"

Test shrugged. "I guess I would have had to get my buddies to beat the crap out of her. I mean, I was friends with the Big Show back then. Anyway, I told you I can do romantic."

Angel nodded, truly impressed. "I stand absolutely corrected."

Test smiled at her thoughtfully. "I'd do it different for you, though. I mean, I wouldn't want to get predictable."

Angel stared deep into his eyes. "How…how would you do it for me?"

Test nodded to himself and stood up. "Well, you'd be at ringside like normal. I'd get tag with Benoit just to make sure. And we'd win the match because…well, of course we would. Then I'd go get a chair and put it in the ring. Then I'd grab you like this…" He held her tightly. "And the crowd would be like, 'oh no! What's going to happen? Is he gonna hit her?' But then I'd open the chair and stand you on it like this and stare deep into your eyes and I'd say, 'Little Angel, you know we'd be great together. I really need you in my life. Please, please say you'll be mine'." Angel grinned down at him as he continued. "And then, of course you'd say yes, so I'd take you in my arms, spin you around off the chair and onto your feet. And then, of course, I'd kiss you." He lightly pressed his lips against her forehead. "How was that?"

Angel actually sighed with happiness as he held her in his arms. She was surprised at how good it felt with his strong arms around her, pressing her into his muscular body. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest, savoring the moment.

"That's great, Test," she whispered, tightening her arms around him and enjoying the gentle pressure of his hands on her back.

Finally, her eyes flickered open and immediately focused on a figure across the room. A figure who was staring, no, glaring back at her. A rock of pure guilt descended upon her stomach as they stared at each other.

'And the part of my conscience will be played by Jeff Hardy,' she thought, her face crumbling into a scowl.

Jeff simply shook his head at her in disgust, then walked away.

Test felt Angel stiffen in his arms and looked down, first at her, then in the direction she was looking, just in time to see Jeff Hardy stride angrily through the room.

"What was that about?" he asked, dropping his arms.

Angel looked up and followed his gaze. "Jeff…me and him…" She waved it away. "Forget it. It's over."

"Oh," Test said knowingly. "Case of the ex."

Angel nodded. "Well, kind of. We never really did anything. I guess, he just always thought he had claims on me."

"Can't blame him," Test smiled. "I mean, you're hot."

"Thanks," Angel replied, trying to match his smile. It wasn't easy. Jeff's appearance had upset her and she couldn't figure out quite why. Why should she give a damn what Jeff Hardy thought? 

"Here, let's sit down," she suggested. "Benoit gets real bitchy if I don't eat all my food."

As if on cue, Benoit appeared with another plate and a stormy expression. He dumped the plate down in front of Angel.

"Excuse me?" she asked, staring up at him.

"If Test wants to share your food, you have to eat more," Benoit replied. "Finish them both."

"You're kidding me."

"Have you ever known me to kid?" Benoit challenged.

Angel just let out an exasperated sigh and picked up her fork.

"Look, I'd better go," Test said reluctantly. Angel turned her face towards him and he reached out and gently caressed it. "I'll see you later, okay?"

Angel nodded.

"Later, Benoit."

"Test," Benoit replied coolly and then Test was gone. Benoit sat down again and watched Angel eat.

"So, is he ready to fight for you yet?"

Angel's eyes darted up before she realized he was just calling her bluff. "Not yet," she replied, after swallowing. "But don't worry, I'm sure I'll get there."

"I'm sure you will," Benoit nodded. "What will be interesting is seeing just how far you're prepared to go."

Angel shrugged indifferently. "I like him."

"Princess, you don't give a crap about him."

"Sure I do. He's sexy, he's sweet. I'd do him."

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "And I thought you only flirt to get what you want."

Angel smirked. "Trust me. I have a feeling I'd enjoy it just as much as he would."

Benoit shook his head. "He's far too stupid for you."

"Stupid?" Angel questioned.

"He makes Kurt Angle look like the president of Mensa."

"Okay, that was mean," Angel frowned. "And besides, what the hell have brains got to do with it? He's big and pretty and has a great body. That's all you need."

Benoit slowly shook his head. "I never thought it'd come to this."

Angel held his gaze. "You said so yourself. It's screw or get screwed."

"You're going to screw him because you want out of our deal?" Benoit asked finally.

"No, I'm going to screw him for a lot of reasons."

"But the biggest one is me," Benoit insisted.

Angel broke into a smug smile. "Don't worry, Benoit. When I sleep with Jeff, you'll be the first to know."

"Test," Benoit corrected automatically.

"Exactly. Test," Angel nodded, not realizing her mistake.

Now Benoit was the one who was smirking. "You said Jeff."

Angel frowned. "No I didn't."

"Sure you did."

"No I didn't. Why would I say Jeff when I meant Test?"

"Why don't you tell me?"

Angel glared at him. "I'm not playing this game with you, Benoit. We both know what I said."

"Yes, princess. I think we do," Benoit smirked.

Angel scowled at him. "Look, I don't have time for this. I have to go see Regal now if I'm going to get you Angle."

"Or Regal," Benoit nodded.

Angel raised her eyebrows. "Okay. I'll go now."

"Sit down and finish your food," Benoit ordered.

"Get me a doggy bag," Angel called without stopping. "I'll eat it later. If you want your match I have to go now."

Faced with that choice, Benoit let her leave. What an interesting turn of events. The girl still wanted the younger Hardy Boy, but she was willing to whore herself to Test in order to end the deal. That sealed it. She was just another broad. Just another whore. So why the hell was she still unafraid of him?

* * * *

"Commissioner Regal, I've come to collect on our deal."

Regal frowned at her. "After what your client did on Raw? Besmirching me for no clear reason that I could see."

"He was mad because he didn't have a match," Angel explained.

"That's still no reason for that unprovoked attack."

"You're absolutely right," Angel grinned.

"I am?"

"You are. That's why, instead of giving Benoit a title shot, I was wondering if I could use it instead."

"You want a title shot?" Regal asked incredulously.

"No, but I do want a match."

"I'm sorry, Angel, but you are not on the current WWF roster and legalities prevent me from doing that."

"Oh, it's not for me."

Regal gave her a confused frown. "Perhaps you should tell me what it is you want."

Angel paused and then spoke. "A rematch. Chris Benoit versus Kurt Angle. One fall. But this one's different. This one has a stipulation."

"And that is?"

"The winner gets me as his manager."

Regal looked shocked. "You're unhappy with your job?"

"My job is managing Chris Benoit. What do you think?"

Regal nodded. "Well, it certainly gives their feud a new edge. When would you like this match? Tonight?"

"Tonight I have a responsibility to get Benoit what he wants. He wants you or Angle."

"Oh he does, does he?"

Angel nodded coolly. "But I was thinking. If I'm not going to be his manager for much longer I really should do my very best to get him exactly what he wants. You _and_ Angle."

"Tag?" Regal questioned.

"No," Angel smirked, shaking her head. "Handicap."

Regal slowly broke into a grin. "That would teach the grubby little toe rag to besmirch me."

"Wouldn't it just?" Angel gloated. "And then, on Sunday Night Heat, we would have my match."

"But after meeting myself and Kurt Angle tonight, Benoit would be in no condition to compete on Sunday."

Angel nodded smugly. "Wouldn't that be unfortunate?"

"Miss Torres, I must say that this is a side I've never before seen from you. It's character such as this that can get you very, very far in this business."

Angel grinned. "Do I get my match?"

"That depends, my dear. Has Kurt Angle agreed to this?"

"You can ask him if you like."

"Well then," Regal said thoughtfully. "I see no reason why I can't sign both of those matches."

Angel nearly applauded. "Fantastic! Thank you so much!"

Regal smiled back. "Not at all, my dear girl. In fact, may I make a suggestion regarding your match?"

"Of course."

Regal nodded. "Do you not think that, considering that you are impartial and the result of this match greatly affects your life, it would not be proper for you to officiate?"

"I'm sorry?" Angel frowned.

Regal reached under his desk and pulled out a black and white striped polo shirt. "I think it would be right for you to be a referee in your match."

"Really?" Angel asked, gingerly reaching for the shirt.

"Of course. The outcome of this match will, in effect, be entirely in your hands. I can trust you to be fair and make the right decision, correct?"

Angel matched his sinister smile. "Oh, you can, sir. You most definitely can."

* * * *

Angel was on cloud nine when she met Benoit in the locker room.

"Guess what?" she asked, smiling sweetly at Benoit.

"What?" Benoit frowned.

"I got you exactly what you wanted."

"Angle or Regal?" Benoit demanded.

"Both," Angel smirked.

Benoit nodded, impressed. "Tag team, eh? Who's my partner? Test again?" He frowned at the thought.

"No, no partner," Angel grinned. "It's handicap."

"What?" Benoit cried.

"You versus Angle and Regal," Angel explained coolly.

Benoit glared at her. "Why did you do that?"

Angel widened her eyes innocently. "You told me you wanted them."

"I meant one on one," Benoit fumed.

"Really?" She cringed. "Oops." A beat. "Well, I kind of got you what you want. You have a rematch with Kurt Angle on Heat."

"I do?" Benoit frowned. "If I survive tonight, what a nice reward! Thank you so much."

Angel grinned at his sarcasm. Boy, was she enjoying this. "There's more."

Benoit blinked heavily. "You've already booked me against the Big Show for Raw."

"No, but about that. I most likely won't book you at all for Raw."  
"What do you mean?"

"That match with Angle? It's a stipulation match," Angel smirked, her eyes locked on his. "The winner gets me."  
Realization hit Benoit like a sledgehammer to the skull. "You bitch."

Angel thought her grin couldn't get any wider, but one look at Benoit's face changed that. "You better look after yourself tonight. I hear those handicap matches can be brutal and I'll want you at your best on Sunday."

"You bitch," Benoit spat again.

Angel happily walked through the room and took a seat on the bench.

Benoit watched her and finally spotted the referee's shirt. "What's that? I have a handicap match _and_ I have to ref one?"

"No, it's not yours," Angel shrugged.

Benoit stared at her, absolutely dumbfounded. "No."

Angel's smile faded as she stared at him intently. "You know, Benoit. Ever since I arrived here people have been giving me clothes. I have an Attitude tank top, a Stone Cold Steve Austin shirt, a Hardy Boyz crop top, a Radicalz sweatshirt, a Chris Benoit tube top, a Wrestlemania jersey, an Edge and Christian basketball jersey and a Kurt Angle tank top. Jeff bought me practically an entire wardrobe. But I think that this," she grinned, holding up the ref's top. "Is my nicest shirt yet. What do you think?"

"You don't know the first thing about refereeing a match," Benoit scowled.

"Well, Commissioner Regal sure thinks I do."  
Benoit just shook his head furiously.

"Relax, Benoit. You've taught me all about wrestling. You know I'll be fair."

Benoit just kept shaking his head. "You bitch."

Angel grinned at him. "You know what, Benoit? I think tonight's going to be one great night!"

* * * *

Angel strutted in front of the mirror, wearing her ref's shirt over her tube top. 

"Not bad," she commented, gathering it at the back. "And if I tie it back here it'll even show my midriff. Perfect."

Benoit glowered at her. "You're pretty damn proud of yourself, aren't you?"

Angel stopped what she was doing to give him a charming smile. "Yep."

"Well, you know what?" Benoit muttered.

Angel threw her hands on her hips, still smiling. "What, Benoit?"

"I'm not going to lose."

Angel nodded with mock sympathy. "You just keep telling yourself that, buddy. Whatever gets you through." She pulled off her shirt and folded it neatly.

At that moment, Rhyno again burst into the room, his eyes wild. He danced from foot to foot as he spotted Angel and held out his hands, beckoning her.

Angel's eyes widened. That was what he did just as he was about to gore someone. 

"Rhyno…"

Bam! Rhyno's shoulder slammed into Angel and she doubled over onto his back.

Rhyno spun to give Benoit a quick glance, mutter, "I'm taking her," and then he was gone.

Benoit just stood in the same position, staring expressionlessly into space.

"Have her," he said quietly. "Have the traitorous little whore! See if I care!" By now he was shouting at the top of his lungs as he flew into a rage, completely trashing the locker room. He stopped abruptly after kicking a chair into the wall. "LITTLE WHORE!"

* * * *

"Okay, that hurt," Angel commented as Rhyno carried her down the hallway.

"Sorry," Rhyno replied disjointedly. "Edge said I shouldn't mess with your…that guy in there."

"He's no better than you are, Rhy. So, who's your opponent tonight?"

"K-Kwik is. K-Kwik."

"Really? Huh, I used to live next door to him for awhile."

"Yeah," Rhyno replied as they approached the stage. "K-Kwik."

"I like your music," Angel commented. "It's very you."

"I didn't write it," Rhyno replied.

"I know, but I still like it."

"Some other guy wrote it."

"That's okay, Rhyno. I know."

Rhyno again released Angel at the bottom of the ramp and she took her place in his corner, staring up at his opponent expressionlessly. K-Kwik had indeed been her next door hotel buddy, in that week or so between sharing with Lita and sharing with Benoit. He'd always been nice to her but, as someone had once told her, nice had no place in wrestling. She couldn't remember just who it was, but they were right. Angel was through with being nice. This business was all about power and she planned on aligning herself with those who wielded most of it. Once Kurt Angle won her, she'd only associate with three people – well, four if she had to endure Kurt as a necessary evil. Edge, Christian and Rhyno. The tag champions and the destructive monster. They were her future. It was all too clear.

Now, looking up, she finally saw K-Kwik for what he was. K-Kwik might be a sassy dancer with some awesome moves, but underneath it all, he was simply a lousy rapper and a very average fighter. And now, Rhyno was destroying him.

Angel leaned over the apron, watching the action intently.

"Come on, Rhy. Kick his ass. Yes!" she screamed as Rhyno gored K-Kwik in the corner, then went for a leg drop over the bottom rope. 

"Yeah Rhyno!" Angel cried, jumping around excitedly as Rhyno threw his hands into the air and shouted, "Who's the man?"

"You are!" replied Angel and a surprising number of spectators.

Angel raised her eyebrows, murmuring, "Maybe Oklahomans _do_ have taste."

K-Kwik came back with a nice dropkick and swinging head scissors.

Angel nodded to herself. "Come on, Rhy! If you keep getting up he'll never stop you!"

K-Kwik performed a series of backflips, then holed Rhyno up in the corner.

"Go, Rhyno! He's not hurting you! He's nothing!"

K-Kwik went for the Irish whip, but Rhyno reversed it, sending K-Kwik towards the corner. But K-Kwik put his hands on the turnbuckle and leaped over Rhyno just as he was about to be gored. K-Kwik continued his momentum with a couple of snazzy backflips. The crowd loved it, but during all his showboating, K-Kwik had forgotten one thing. Rhyno.

Bam! A gore, a cover and one…two…three. Another one bit the dust.

Angel cheered wildly as the ref stepped up to Rhyno and tried to raise his hand in victory.

Rhyno shrugged him off. "Don't touch me!" he snapped, fists in the air. He stared down at Angel, eyes wide and psychotic. "Angel!" he cried, jumping down next to her. "Angel!"

Angel glanced at him warily. He still scared the crap out of her but every day she trusted him more and more.

"Congratulations, brother," she said with a little smile.

Rhyno nodded at her rapidly, then threw his arms around her. "I did it, Angel. I did it!" he cried, maneuvering them up the ramp.

Angel smiled and hugged him back. "You sure did!"

Suddenly she was tossed aside and sat bewildered on the ramp as someone attacked Rhyno, forced him to the ring and threw him inside.

"Crash freaking Holly," Angel muttered, picking herself up. "They're all out of their minds."

Crash punched Rhyno and then went for some momentum off the ropes, but Rhyno simply set himself, waited and gored him again.

Holding his head, Rhyno spun around the ring, picking up Crash's baseball cap, which had fallen off in the fight. He nodded rapidly to himself and climbed back down next to Angel.

"He attacked me! He attacked me!"

"I know," Angel nodded. "He got just what he deserved."

Rhyno grinned at her maniacally. "Here, Angel. A hat."

Angel smiled as he put it on her head, backwards, just like Crash wore it. "Thanks, Rhyno."

"He wanted you to have it," Rhyno announced. "Holly did. He told me."

"Yeah," Angel smirked, looking at the ring. "I think he did."

"Come on," Rhyno suggested. "Let's go."

So, with both of them worrying about Rhyno's sore head and each with an arm around the other, they walked together up the ramp.

* * * *

Rhyno was still holding his head as he emerged through the curtain.

"Rhyno! Rhynette! Major destructo, dudes."

Angel smiled at Edge as Christian went on. "Yeah. Dude, that was gore-geous."

"And what's this?" Edge grinned, tapping the baseball cap. "An Angel in Holly's clothing!"

Angel smirked smugly. "Is it me, or what?"

"Totally," Christian agreed.

Suddenly, something caught Angel's eye. Chris Benoit was headed towards the ring, flexing his muscles as he walked.

Angel left Edge and Christian to talk to Rhyno and fell into step beside her boss.

"Am I not your valet?"

"You were with your friends. I didn't think you'd want to come."

"And miss this awesome display of your endurance against two high profile opponents? Not on your life, pal."

Benoit shook his head and they stepped out towards the stage.

"Dada dada da dada dadada," Angel sang quietly. "Oh 'Shooter'. I'm going to miss this song."

Benoit took a deep breath. He was not going to let her piss him off. He had bigger things to worry about.

Angel cocked her head as they reached the stage. What was that she heard? Cheers? For Benoit?

'Are these Oklahomans out of their minds?' she wondered. 'I mean, it's Benoit! What's wrong with these people?'

As Benoit climbed into the ring, Angel walked around to Regal and Angle's corner.

"Hey guys."

"Hello," Regal smiled and waved as Angle nodded down at her.

"You have my full permission to kick Benoit's ass."

Regal and Angle stared at each other, then back at Angel. "Thank you."

They looked back at Benoit and surrounded him as he sized them up, plotting his first move. He went for Angle and punched him into the corner, only to be attacked from behind by Regal. They continued the double team and Angle set up for a German suplex, only to have Benoit's boot slam into his groin.

"Hey!" Angel cried in surprise. "That's how _I_ break those holds!"

Benoit ran to Regal and locked on the crossface, but Angle found his feet and kicked him away.

Bam! Benoit nailed a German on Angle, but immediately dropped the hold and looked for Regal.

Bam! German on Regal and Benoit ran to Angle again.

Bam! German on Angle.

Bam! German on Regal.

Bam! A third on Angle.

Bam! A third on Regal.

Six consecutive Germans. The crowd was going insane and Benoit looked around at them, completely bewildered.

"Don't cheer him," Angel scowled. "You'll only encourage the prick."

Benoit stared furiously at his opponents and dumped Angle from the ring. Now Regal was isolated.

Crash! Knife-edge chop across the chest. Regal tried to battle back but Benoit pulled the reversal into the suplex and locked on the crossface.

Suddenly, Angle flew through the ring, forcing him to break the hold.

"Yeah, Angle!" Angel cried, tapping loudly on the apron.

But Benoit simply spun around and locked the crossface on Angle instead.

"Don't tap, Kurt!" Angel pleaded as she ran around the corner, ready to put Kurt's foot on the rope. But before she even got there, Regal kicked Benoit and Angle was free. He and Regal again began the double team, viciously attacking Benoit as the crowd started chanting, "Angle sucks! Angle sucks!"

"Angle doesn't suck," Angel scowled. "He's going to save my ass. That's it, Kurt! Kick him! Punch him! Kill him!"

Suddenly, Benoit dug deep for a huge German on Regal, but he turned around right into a belly to belly throw from Angle.

"Yes!" Angel cried, applauding loudly as Kurt got to his feet and shouted, "Whoo!"

Regal took his opportunity to put Benoit in the Regal Stretch. Kurt turned around with a sadistic grin on his face and immediately locked on the ankle lock.

Angel nodded smugly. "Hang in there, Benoit!" she cried, knowing that every second was injuring him more and more. "Don't tap! You can do it!"

Benoit screamed, slowly raised his left hand, and tapped.

Angel was surprised. "Don't let go, guys!" she advised. "Punish him!"

Regal released his hold and started waving at the crowd but Angle still held on, and on, and on. 

"That's it, Kurt! Break his damn ankle! Make him squeal!"

Regal stepped over to tell Angel to release, but still he didn't. Struggling, Regal stepped out the way again.

"Break him, Kurt, break him!" Angel shouted.

"I own you now, and I'll own you again. Whenever you step in the ring with me I will own you!" Kurt cried, still in the hold. "You can never beat me!"

Benoit couldn't hear anything over his own screams and the pain that was swallowing him. He still tapped, but Kurt didn't care.

More refs entered the ring, but still Kurt held on. Not even five refs could get him to let go.

"Yeah, Kurt! Snap it!" Angel encouraged.

Suddenly, a huge roar rang out and Chris Jericho sprinted down the ramp.

Angel watched him with wild eyes. 

"What are you doing here?" she muttered. "You'll ruin everything!"

Jericho dove into the ring. He kicked Angle and chased him away, then chased the refs until they, too, left. He was in a foul mood, jumping all around the ring, hanging off the ropes, even glaring down at Angel, who stared back up at him with a fearless scowl. She made no move to escape, unlike everyone else. 

Regal and Angle backed up the ramp with indignant expressions.

"This isn't over, Jericho!" Kurt shouted. "I'll see you later!"

Jericho snarled back at him, then turned to find that Benoit was staring at him.

Benoit was surprised and confused and Jericho was giving nothing away. His face said just one thing. You saved my ass, I saved yours. Done.

Then, as quickly as he'd arrived, Jericho headed back up the ramp.

Angel climbed into the ring next to Benoit. "How's the ankle?" she asked smoothly.

"Shut up," Benoit panted, trying to find his feet.

"And that was sure nice of Jericho to show up, wasn't it? You'd be in trouble if he hadn't."

"Shut up."

"Is he your new best friend, Benoit? Because that is so sweet!"

"Shut up!" Benoit fumed, finally making it from the ring.

Angel jumped down next to him. "Gee, Benoit. I sure am going to miss you. Especially your extensive vocabulary."

Benoit just kept on walking. Let her gloat. She'd see things differently when he destroyed Kurt Angle. Bruised ankle? Hell, a broken ankle wouldn't stop him. Kurt Angle was a dead man. And she would be there to see it all, to count the one…two…three next to Kurt's broken body. And then, up close, listening to Kurt scream in absolute agony, she would finally see what he, Chris Benoit, was capable of. If he could beat Kurt Angle, six foot tall, almost two forty pounds within an inch of his life, what could he do to her? She was a sharp girl, she'd get it through her head. This was just the catalyst he needed to crack her. She would fear him, just like everyone else. She thought she was pretty damn smart tonight, what with her 'match-making' skills and wheedling her way into a ref's shirt, but Benoit was about to prove her wrong. Revenge always left the sweetest taste.


	36. Freedom Match

Title: Freedom Match

Rating: PG-13 for language and violence

Spoilers: None

Summary: Finally, Angel's moment of truth has arrived. It's time for her freedom match.

A/N: This match never happened (though I wish it had, I'd definitely pay to see this). I made it up from start to finish. If you don't like reading long matches, just read scenes one and two and skip to the end to see who won, but I don't advise that. IMO, it's a way cool match with a few surprises so I hope you enjoy reading it.

A/N 2: Do you all realize you're meant to be cheering for Benoit? He's the face! Kurt's the heel and as for Angel, she's a manipulative little bitch right now. Lol. But I know in the real wrestling, I always cheer for the heels, so you can do what you want. Oh, and for the record, Test was a face then too ;-P

SUNDAY NIGHT HEAT, APRIL 8TH, 2001

"Twelve, thirteen, fourteen," Angel counted as she pulled the weights down and up.

"Sister, can I have a word?"

Angel let the weights return to their resting position and looked over at the person who'd spoken. He was leaning casually against the weight machine, everything about his expression and body language screaming 'look at me! I'm a conceited jackass. Give me attention now!'

"Only one word from you," she breathed. "Would be a refreshing change. I don't think you can do it."

He frowned down at her. "I'd watch what you say to me, baby. I'm not Chris Benoit."

"No, you're not," Angel smirked. "You're the Ayatollah of Rock and Rollah."

He glowered at her mocking sarcasm. "You know, I think I liked you much better when you were a Hardy girl."

Angel shrugged. "Life's a bitch, ain't it?" She reached for her water bottle, letting Jericho know that she didn't even respect him enough to keep eye contact, to watch her own back. "So, Ayatollah. What's on your mind?"  
Jericho stared at her solemnly, his blue eyes burning right through her. "What are you _thinking_?"

"Right now?" Angel smirked. "You don't want to know."

Jericho raised his eyebrows and nodded at her. "You actually, voluntarily want to be Kirk Angel's manager?"

"Why not?" Angel shrugged. "In your words, we have the same name. Convenient for merchandising."

"You think you're pretty clever, don't you?"

"Yeah, actually, I do."

Jericho blinked. "Okay, sister," he said evenly. "I didn't want to have to say this, but would you please…shut the hell up?"

Angel folded her arms and stared at him indignantly, daring him to go on.

"You, sister," he started. "Are one of the biggest, cockiest, bitchiest ass clowns I have ever…ever met! I don't know why Benoit's even bothering to fight for you when you're quite obviously not worth it."

"Did Benoit send you?" Angel asked.

Jericho shook his head. "He didn't need to. I decided all on my own that I had to tell you to stop deluding yourself. Do you honestly mean to tell me you have no idea what Benoit's done for you?"

"What he's done for me? I'm his damn slave. The sooner I end that, the better."

"Slave? Wake up, sister! Without him, you'd be nothing."

Angel cocked her head and peered at him curiously. "Without him, I'd be free."

Jericho just dismissed her comment with a shake of his head. "Do you know how many people want to kick your ass right now? But they won't because they respect Benoit too much to even try it. If you manage Angle, you'd be dead within days."

"I have friends. And I can take care of myself."

"Oh, you think so?"

"Jerky, I know so."

"Jerky?" Jericho cried. "Did you just call me Jerky?"

"It hurts, doesn't it?" Angel asked innocently.

Jericho shook his head, glaring at her furiously.

"Y2J," Angel smiled. "You neither scare me, nor impress me. I just thought you should know that."

Jericho glowered at her, wringing his hands restlessly. He wanted to punch her, to shut her smart mouth and knock some sense into that pigheaded mind. But he didn't.

"Don't worry, sister," he said at last. "You'll get yours. Maybe sooner than you think."

"Bye-bye," Angel smiled, before rolling her eyes. "Jackass."

* * * *

"Commissioner Regal, I'm so glad I caught you."

"Miss Torres. Tonight is your night, correct?"

"Yes it is. But I was wondering if I could get a little change to the rules?"

"And that would be?"  
Angel paused. "Have you noticed how tight Benoit and Jericho have become lately?"

Regal nodded. "Yes, I have noticed. Nothing but toe rags, the both of them."

Angel smiled. "I would hate for them to continue their alliance tonight. The last thing I want is an unfair match."

"I agree with you wholeheartedly," Regal nodded. "But how do you suggest we prevent it?"

"Simple. No one at ringside. No run ins. Even if I somehow don't see it, a run in means disqualification."

Regal nodded again. "I can't see any problem with that whatsoever. Any other requests?"

"No," Angel grinned evilly. "I think that about covers it."

"Well, my dear girl. I shall be watching. Enjoy yourself tonight."

"Absolutely," Angel smiled, while adding in her head, 'Especially now Jericho can't touch me.'

It was all set. Benoit was perhaps 70 or 80% after his handicap match while Angle was very close to full strength. And now, playing keep-aways with Jericho, there was nothing standing in her way. Finally, at last, after more than a month of misery, depression and pain, she was going to be free.

* * * *

"The following match is scheduled for one fall and it is for the managerial services of Angel Torres. Making her way to the ring, the special guest referee, Angel Torres!"

The response was lukewarm. Angel didn't care. She wasn't here to be popular. She was, however, very much enjoying making her entrance to 'Shooter' alone. It was kind of fitting.

She had tied the ref's shirt at the back to show her midriff and with her hair and makeup just so, she was easily the hottest ref the WWF had seen in some time. She climbed into the ring and turned to stare solemnly at the ramp, waiting for the next entrance, not really knowing which it would be.

'Medal' hit and there stood the challenger, arms raised and extended.

"Introducing the challenger, from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, weighing in at two hundred and thirty-seven pounds, Kurt Angle!"

Kurt reached the ring and climbed in next to Angel. They shared a smile and then Kurt took off his medals. Usually he would have just handed them to either the ref or the ring announcer, but this time he held them up high and slowly put them around Angel's neck.

Before Angel could do anything but smile back, 'Shooter' started playing again.

"And, making his way to the ring, from Edmonton, Alberta, Canada, weighing in at two hundred and twenty-nine pounds, Chris Benoit!"

Benoit tilted his head from side to side and then wiped his nose. He showed a complete disinterest in ceremony as he climbed into the ring, glaring at Angel and Kurt.

"Okay, boys," Angel started, stepping aside as they stared each other off. "I want a good fight, a fair fight…."

Benoit stared at her incredulously. "This isn't a movie."

The moment was enough. Kurt flew forward with a stinging right that stunned Benoit briefly, before whipping him into the corner. Kurt was on him in a flash with some more hard rights, kicks to the midsection and knees to the abdomen.

"Okay, Kurt, get him out of there," Angel advised.

Kurt responded with a huge belly to belly suplex, then made the cover.

Angel dropped to the ground and started pounding the mat rapidly. "One…two…"

Just before three, Benoit threw Kurt off and leaped furiously to his feet.

"What the hell was that?"  
"A two count," Angel replied evenly.

"If you'd counted any faster I wouldn't have heard it at all!"

Bam! Kurt flew in again, sending Benoit for an Irish whip into a DDT. He scrambled around, trying for the ankle lock, but Benoit reversed it and locked on the crossface. Kurt screamed and tried to move himself towards the ropes, only to feel a kick to the kidney and a punch in the back as Benoit released for a second, dragged Kurt back into the center of the ring and locked on again.

Kurt was tapping, and tapping, and tapping, but all Angel did was look on, crying out, "One! Two! Three! Okay, Benoit, let him go!"

Her words completely threw Benoit, who slammed Kurt's face into the canvas, found his feet and got right in Angel's face.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" he demanded. "I had that bitch tapping!"

Angel didn't back down. "No submission."

"Excuse me?"

"Pinfall only," Angel insisted. "No submission."  
"What?" Benoit screamed. "Are you making this up as you go along?"  
Angel glowered at him. "You'd better get out of my face before I have to disqualify you."

"Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?" Benoit sneered, as he felt a hand on his leg and Kurt took him over into a cradle, pinning his shoulders.

Angel was back with the fast count. "One…two…two!" she cried as Benoit kicked out and gave her the evil eye. Angle grabbed him again, but this time he reversed, sending Kurt into a snap suplex and forming a bridge. 

Angel slowly dropped to the ground. "One," she counted slowly. "Two…two and a half…two and three quarters…"

Benoit lost his patience and finally threw Kurt aside, before jumping up to meet Angel again.

"If you don't start calling this properly…"

"Two!" Angel interrupted him, holding up her fingers. "And if you hadn't let him go, we might have reached three!"

"What, after two and fifty-three fifty-fourths?" Benoit retorted, but just then Kurt grabbed his arm and sent him for yet another Irish whip into the ropes. This time, Benoit was ready, knocking Kurt down with a clothesline and making the cover. But this time, there wasn't even a slow count. 

Benoit waited and waited, but still the count didn't start. He leaped to his feet in disgust and spun around, looking for Angel. He found her standing nearby, holding Kurt Angle's medals up to her face and using them as mirrors to check her hair and makeup. Benoit was absolutely livid. 

"Forget your damn hair and start watching the damn match!" he screamed.

Angel's eyes widened. "Keep raising your voice to me and I'll have you thrown out of the damn match."

Benoit just scowled at her, then focused his fury on Angle. Grabbing him roughly, he lifted him to his feet, applied the waistlock and went for a German suplex, then another and finally a third.

Kurt lay dazed on the canvas as Benoit spread his arms. It was headbutt time.

Angel frowned as he climbed up top. If he hit this, Kurt was a goner.

Suddenly, she heard a strange sound coming from the crowd and spun to face the stage, expecting to see Chris Jericho. But what she saw made her mouth drop open. Edge and Christian.

"No," she murmured as the sprinted down the ramp. If they got in the ring, Kurt would be disqualified. The rule she'd designed to keep Jericho away was going to be her downfall. Without another thought, she jumped from the ring and sped to meet them.

"Stop, guys, stop! You can't go down there!"

"Angel face, what gives?"  
"You can't go down there, guys."

"Why not?" Christian frowned. "We're gonna help Kurt win your match. Don't you want that?"

"Of course I want him to win, but you guys can't help. If you do, he'll be disqualified."

"But, you wouldn't do that, would you?" Edge frowned.

Back in the ring, Benoit was himself down after hitting the headbutt. He wearily dragged himself over the mat and made the cover on Angle. Again there was no count and Benoit pushed himself up and looked around frantically. There she was. Talking to Edge and Christian. Goddamn little whore. 

Growling furiously, he pushed himself to his feet and climbed from the ring. He raced up the ramp, grabbed Angel around the waist, pinned her arms, and started carrying her back towards the ring.

"Let go!" Angel cried, struggling and kicking her legs. "Let me go!"

"Shut up!" Benoit snapped, throwing her into the ring and climbing in after her. "You are going to make the count that wins me this match and you are going to do it properly."

Giving her one last glare, he stepped back over to Kurt and made the cover. 

Sighing, Angel dropped to the canvas. "One…two…"

Kurt just raised his shoulder. He must have had enough recovery time.

Benoit let out a furious shout and made another cover.

"One…two…"

Again Kurt raised his shoulder.

Frustrated, Benoit jumped to his feet and then dropped from the ring. He picked up a chair and then climbed back in. 

Angel immediately tried to grab it from him. "No, Benoit. You use that and you're gone. I mean it, you're gone."

Scowling furiously, Benoit let the chair go and turned around, right into a missile dropkick from Kurt Angle. Kurt picked him up and hit a powerslam, then hooked his leg.

Angel dove to the ground, pounding the mat quickly. "One…two…" But somehow Benoit kicked out again.

He tried to grab for Kurt and they scrambled over each other, jostling for position, before Kurt made the ankle lock.

Angel nodded smugly and got to her feet.

"One…" she counted slowly. "Two…" Benoit had started to tap and Kurt looked up expectantly. "Three! Okay, Kurt, let him go."

"What?" Kurt cried, not releasing the hold.

"No submission victory," Angel explained. "Pinfall only."

"You have to be kidding me!" Kurt exclaimed.

"No, I'm not," Angel said solemnly over the sound of Benoit's screams and frantic taps. "Let him go, make the cover and I'll fast count it."

Kurt broke into a sadistic grin and released the hold, then quickly turned Benoit over and pinned him. Somehow, he still only got two.

Shrugging, Kurt climbed to his feet, then dropped a boot to Benoit's ankle. He went for a few more kicks and then reached down to grab Benoit by the boot. He dragged him over to the ropes, then slammed the boot down on the bottom one, attacking Benoit's ankle again and again.

"Get him away from the ropes!" Angel cried at Kurt, who turned to grin sadistically at her before grabbing Benoit's boot again. Kurt dragged him along as Benoit struggled to his feet and hopped after him.

Suddenly – thwack! Benoit hit the enziguri and Kurt was down. Benoit's left ankle was all but busted, but he dug deep, picking Kurt up and whipping him into the ropes. On the return, Benoit stopped him dead with a knife-edge chop, then another and another. Benoit chopped Kurt right in the corner, gaining momentum every second. 

Just then Kurt raised his legs and kicked Benoit away, then spun him around so he was now trapped in the corner. Kurt punched him and kicked him until Angel cried, "Okay, get him out of there." Kurt nodded and scooped Benoit up, sitting him on the top turnbuckle, then climbed up after him. He was going for the superplex. He reached down and grabbed Benoit's tights, but Benoit wasn't going anywhere. Kurt got a new grip and tried again for the same result.

Suddenly, Benoit let out a wild cry and suplexed Kurt over his head, sending both of them backwards off the turnbuckle and onto the ground.

Shocked, Angel raced to the corner and peered down. Neither Kurt nor Benoit looked like moving. She had no choice but to start the ten count.

"One!" she shouted, throwing her hands in the air. "Two! Three!" Every number made her count more and more slowly. A ten count was no good to her. It meant no result – she'd still be stuck with Benoit. "Four! Five!" Suddenly, she dropped from the ring. She had to do it.

"Kurt!" she cried, scooping her arms under his. "Get back in the ring!" 

With Angel's help, Kurt rolled back into the ring, followed by Angel, who started a new count, much faster than before. 

"One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight!"

A very weak Benoit somehow found enough to crawl back into the ring, but Kurt was waiting, immediately applying the ankle lock. Again, Angel counted slowly to three as Benoit screamed and tapped.

"Okay, let him go now," Angel advised.

Kurt's only reply was to shout out "Whoo!" and twist Benoit's leg even further.

"Let him go, Kurt! You can't win if you don't make the cover."

Kurt ignored her. "I told you I'd make you squeal! This is just seconds away from snapping, pal!"

"Kurt, let him go!"

Still Kurt ignored her.

"If you don't make the cover I can't be your manager!"

Kurt made no signs of breaking the hold and it suddenly dawned on her. He didn't care. All he cared about was breaking Benoit's ankle.

"Come on, Kurt. Just make the cover and I'll be your manager."

Kurt still ignored her.

Angel took a deep breath. She was the referee. She had to keep control or they'd send out someone else who wouldn't fast count Kurt and slow count Benoit. Someone who couldn't guarantee victory. So, she did the only thing she could think of. She pulled out her fighting sticks and slammed them across Kurt's back.

Kurt immediately released Benoit and spun accusingly as Angel put her sticks away.

"Now, make the cover so we can end this thing," she suggested coolly.

But Kurt no longer cared about Benoit. He ran at Angel, grabbed her arm and whipped her into the ropes, before catching her on the return with a knee to the abdomen. She collapsed to the canvas but before Kurt could inflict any more damage, Benoit grabbed him and sent him for another trio of Germans. He then went to grab Kurt again, but Kurt hooked his leg and brought him down in a side Russian leg sweep. Just as Kurt got to his feet a sound rang out.

"Aah!" Angel was standing on the top turnbuckle, her sticks raised above her head. A second later she flew, bringing Kurt down in a hurricanrana and then crisscrossing her sticks over his fallen body. Suddenly, Kurt kicked out into her stomach, pushing her across the ring and scattering her sticks. But before Kurt could celebrate, Benoit took him down again with a clothesline. Angel was back on track, standing over Kurt before he got up. She gave Benoit a quick glance. 

"Germans?"

"Germans," Benoit nodded.

Angel grinned sadistically and formed the waistlock. She gritted her teeth and leaned back.

"Holy shit! His fat ass is even heavier than yours!" she cried, but still somehow hit it, then got up to try again, but before she could even try, Kurt elbowed her in the face and she was down. Suddenly free, Kurt ran at Benoit and tossed him over the top rope before turning back to Angel with a sick smile on his face.

He picked her up quickly and held her over his head. The seconds ticked past and all her blood flowed to her head, before he finally slammed her down. It was a brutal vertical suplex and left Angel motionless on the canvas. Satisfied, Kurt nodded to himself and began to climb. He was going for the moonsault. He twisted back and took off, but smack! A chair slammed into him and he fell to the canvas.

Benoit dropped the chair and picked Kurt up, sending him for a snap suplex, just as Angel began to stir. Benoit then sent Kurt for a belly to belly, but Kurt landed on his feet, spun around and sent Benoit into a DDT, before heading for Angel.

"No, Kurt," she whispered warily. "Don't touch me."

But Kurt just grinned sadistically and picked up the chair.

"No, Kurt, no," Angel pleaded, not even thinking of disqualifying him.

Kurt silenced her with a shot to the head. "How many was it you gave me?" he asked, hitting her again and again. "Three? I better go for one more, just to be sure." 

After the fourth chair shot, he scooped her up and sent her over in the Angle slam (the move formerly known as the Olympic slam) as the crowd started chanting, "Angle sucks! Angle sucks!"

Benoit was just finding his feet. He glared at Kurt furiously and picked up the discarded chair. Kurt turned away from Angel – straight into the chair. It cracked across his skull several times before Benoit picked him up and dumped him from the ring. Shaking his head with pure hatred, he followed Kurt with the suicide dive and landed right on top of him. Benoit picked Kurt up and paraded him around, bouncing his head off the barrier over and over and then whipping him into the steel steps. Kurt screamed in pain, but Benoit wasn't done yet, picking him up and rolling him back into the ring, before climbing in after him and picking up the chair again.

Every time Kurt moved, Benoit hit him, over and over and over until he didn't move at all. Kurt was busted open and out cold. Benoit slammed the chair over Kurt's motionless body once more, then tossed it aside. He peered over at Angel, who still hadn't stirred, and took a deep breath. For a moment her considered calling out another ref and pulling Kurt over himself for the cover – Kurt and the little whore deserved each other after what they'd tried to pull. But he didn't do it. Instead, he stepped up to Angel, picked up her arm and dragged her until she was right next to Kurt. Then, still holding her wrist, he dropped down onto Kurt and hit Angel's hand against the canvas. One…two…three.

An official rang the bell and 'Shooter' played. It was over.

Breathing heavily, Benoit leaned over and tore Kurt's medals from Angel's neck. He stood over Kurt's body and dropped them, a sick smirk on his face. Then he grabbed Angel's arm again and dragged her to the edge of the ring, before running to pick up her fighting sticks. He climbed from the ring, hoisted Angel over his shoulder and started up the ramp. Partway up he stopped and turned back. 

Kurt still lay bleeding and motionless, but he'd live to fight another day. Sons of bitches like him always do. Still, Benoit allowed himself a satisfied nod, deciding that Kurt's broken, bloodied body was one of the sweetest things he had ever seen. And that was true.

************************************************************************

A/N 3 (What? Three A/Ns in one chapter? Shut the hell up already!): Poor Angel. As they say, the best laid plans of mice and men often come awry. And since awry is a great word, that's it for today…check back soon to see what happens next and thanks muchly for reading this far!!!!


	37. AGoreAble

Title: A-Gore-Able

Rating: PG-13 for violence, adult themes, mind games and the effects of drug use

Spoilers: For the date in question

Summary: The freedom match is over and Angel lost, but there's always Rhyno and Test. Doesn't this seem like a great time for Benoit to change the rules?

RAW IS WAR, APRIL 9TH, 2001

Angel woke up with a blistering headache and no memory of the night before. She vaguely remembered that she'd had her freedom match and had been pulling fast and slow counts but, after that, nothing.

"Must've been some celebration," she murmured, rolling over just to make sure she hadn't picked up some random guy for the continuance of an obviously wild night. She let out a sigh of relief. She was alone. 

Next question – where the heck was she? She tried frantically to remember, but her head was positively throbbing and she couldn't think straight. Slowly, carefully, she raised her hand to her head and located the pain. Her fingers swept over a Band-Aid. So it wasn't alcohol. She'd been hit in the head again. Benoit, the son of a bitch, had obviously reacted brilliantly to his loss, pounding the crap out of her. Come to think of it, it wasn't just her head that hurt – the rest of her was also an ensemble of agony. So, she'd been beaten up. One more question – who had rescued her, checked her into the hotel and then put her to bed? She slowly ran her hands down her body and discovered she was fully dressed. A gentleman, obviously, Angel decided, peering down and spotting her ref's shirt.

Finally, she summoned enough energy to get up, take a shower and reclaim the events of last night. She painfully pulled herself up out of bed, padded slowly to the door and opened it.

Benoit looked up from the TV. "So you _are_ alive."

Angel frowned as disappointment, resentment and confusion coursed through her. 

"What…what's the time?" she asked weakly.

"Nine thirty. Get your things together. We have to travel."

Angel nodded against her pain. "Why didn't you wake me for training?"

"I didn't think you could take it today."

"I can take anything you can dish out, pal," Angel said, but they both knew the truth so she gave up the fight and sighed deeply. "Who beat me up?"

Benoit didn't look up from the TV. "Kurt Angle."

"Bullshit!" Angel cried with such force that Benoit turned and stared.

"You don't remember a thing, do you?" he mocked.

Angel broke into a scowl. "I remember I was fast-counting Kurt's covers. You must have cheated."

Benoit smirked. "Sit down. I think we'll have training after all."

Angel's eyes widened with apprehension.

"Relax, princess. We're just going to watch a video."

Angel nodded solemnly and sat as Benoit changed tapes and started it up.

Angel watched expressionlessly while Benoit took a more clinical approach, cataloging all his own mistakes as well as Kurt's.

By the end, Angel's head was in her hands and she shook it slowly.

The tape stopped and Benoit switched off the TV.

"I told you you must have cheated," she said, her voice shaking slightly.

Benoit ignored her comment. "You honestly wanted to be his manager?"

Angel shook her head coldly. "I wanted to be free of you. He didn't want me anyway."

Benoit nodded. "Well, you're right about that. Now, go get your things or we'll miss our flight."

Angel frowned at him. "Can I shower and change?"

Benoit stared at her, then at his watch and finally at her again.

Angel rolled her eyes at him and headed for her room.

* * * *

Angel strode confidently into William Regal's office. The news that Benoit had won the freedom match had bugged her a lot, as had the realization that Kurt Angle was a cheating, self-serving rodent. She'd gotten over it quickly, though. She had to. She was a survivor. And besides, she still had Test and Rhyno. And she had big plans for Benoit tonight. Big plans!

"Miss Torres, I must say it's a delightful surprise to see you today at all."

Angel nodded. "Life goes on."

"Yes, indeed it does," Regal agreed. "So, my dear girl. What can I do for you today?"

Angel stared at him for a moment before speaking. "Remember we spoke yesterday about Jericho and Benoit's little alliance? I have a great idea which will both nip it in the bud and provide fans with a match the likes of which is usually reserved for Pay Per Views."

Regal nodded thoughtfully. "Go on."

"Picture this," Angel started. "Tonight, on Raw Is War. Benoit versus Jericho. One hell of a match and the continuance of one of the greatest ever feuds. We're talking names linked in the same breath as Sergeant Slaughter and the Iron Sheik, Bob Backlund and Jimmy Snuka, the Rock and Stone Cold Steve Austin. A great feud is a terrible thing to end over something as trivial as 'common enemies'. So, what do you say?"

Regal nodded slowly. "I think that match would be entirely appropriate. Chris Benoit versus Chris Jericho it is. Oh and Miss Torres? Never give up. Good things always come to those who wait."

"I know. Thanks, Commissioner Regal."

* * * *

"Another day, another match," Angel said coolly.

Benoit stared at her. "Do I get to finish off Kurt Angle's stinking carcass?"

"Poetic," Angel smirked. "But no. This match is bigger."

"A title shot?" Benoit asked skeptically.

"Guess again." She went on as Benoit stared at her blankly. "Trust me, it's worthy of a Pay Per View. The gladiatorial struggle continues."

Benoit frowned. "Jericho?"

Angel broke into her smirk. "Ding! Ding! Ding! Here is your winner…"

Benoit cut her off with a single word. "Why?"

"Because…you've always had such good matches before. Isn't it what you want?"

Benoit glared at her. "I think it's time we renegotiate your contract."

Now Angel was on the back foot. "What…what do you mean? You can't do that!"

Benoit smirked evilly. "Princess, last night I won you in a match. If Kurt had cheated enough to beat me, you would have negotiated with him, so I have that same right."

Angel stuck out her bottom lip stubbornly. "What do you want? I'm already your damn slave."

"That's right, you are. But now, things are a little different. For one thing, you are _my_ damn valet and yet you prance around with Edge, Christian and that Rhyno thing."

"I already said you're free to stop…"

"From now on," Benoit spoke over her. "You can go to the ring with whoever you damn well please, provided they're not facing me."

Angel opened her mouth to argue, before she truly realized what he'd said. "I can?"

"Wipe that hopeful little smile off your face. You'll still be my valet as well."

Angel processed it. "Okay, that still sounds too good to be true. What's the catch?"

Benoit nodded, smirk in place. "Princess, that's what I like about you. Always so sharp."

Angel's frown deepened. "Tell me."

Benoit's smirk faded as he stared at her intently. "Every match you're at ringside is one less I pay for. If you go with Rhyno, I pay for two. If you go for a tag match _and_ Rhyno, I pay for one. If, by chance, you go for three, well, little girl, you're working my match for free."

Angel was dumbfounded, but she thought fast. "But that'd be like having my old job back. I could valet for eight matches a night and get paid for seven of them."

Benoit shook his head. "One, you don't have that many friends. Not anymore. And two, you still stay here in the locker room when you're not at a match. You won't be able to book clients. So you're going to have to think very carefully about how much money you need to survive."

Angel didn't back down. "I need four or more matches per week. If Edge and Christian have two and Rhyno has two, I'm all set."

"You'd charge your friends?" Benoit asked, eyebrows raised.

He said it so disdainfully and Angel knew immediately that he was right. In the old days, Matt and Jeff had paid her because they felt an obligation to Lita, while Al Snow and Steve Blackman had felt sorry for her. That wasn't how it was with Edge, Christian and Rhyno. Friends didn't pay friends to hang out. It just wasn't cool.

She stared at Benoit moodily, knowing he had her trapped and that he knew it too. Realistically, she couldn't afford to give up more than one match per show, even if she did still sponge off Benoit for food and accommodation. She had expenses now – cosmetics, fashion. It was all too easy to get caught up in the Diva way of life. Benoit had given her hope and then hit her right where it hurt. The wallet. That son of a bitch.

"Any other requests?" she spat acidly.

Benoit put his gloating on hold. "Yes. You make my matches, but if I don't like what you get, you go back again, again and again until you get me what I want. Don't worry. I won't make any unreasonable requests."

Angel glared at him. "But I can only take what Regal will give out."

Benoit shrugged. "So use your charm. I'm sure smarter men than him have fallen for it."

Angel glowered at him. "I have no choice, do I? You won me." Benoit just nodded solemnly. "Okay. How does Jericho cut the bacon?"

"I don't want it," Benoit replied, ignoring her turn of phrase.

"But it's a good match," Angel protested.

"I don't care. I wanted Regal or Angle."

"I know that," Angel fumed. "But when this opportunity came up, I had to take it."

"You took it," Benoit echoed. "Because you and Regal are nice and cozy, plotting together in your cute little accents. Now, go back and tell your friend our esteemed commissioner that I want to kick his ass."

"He doesn't like you, Benoit. He's not going to sign this match."

"Make him sign it!" Benoit shouted.

Angel felt her lower lip begin to tremble so she sucked it in. "I…I can't."

"Oh, really?" Benoit asked, breaking into his smirk again. "Something the princess can't do. Can't or won't, princess? You'd whore yourself to Test. Surely Regal's not that great a step down."

"Shut up!" Angel shouted, feeling the tears start and a rock form in the pit of her stomach – the same rock that had been there when Jeff had seen her hugging Test.

"Perhaps you do have standards after all," Benoit mused as she furiously wiped away her tears. "Or perhaps it's because whoring yourself to Regal will benefit me and not you."

"Shut up!" Angel screamed again, but Benoit wasn't done with his monologue.

"But you see, that's where you're wrong, princess. It does benefit you. You work for me. You have to get me what I want. You personally have to keep me happy, no matter how humiliating it is to crawl to Regal on your _hands_ and _knees_. Because, if that's what it takes, you can be damn sure that you will do it."

"You can't make me," Angel sobbed.

"Actually, yes I can," Benoit replied darkly. "I own you. I won you. It was settled in the ring. And in this business, that makes it law."

Angel suddenly stared up at him tearfully. He was right. She'd lost her own stipulation match. She had no rights. Her tears dissolved into a scowl and she set her jaw. 

"What do you want from me?" she demanded.

Benoit cocked his head and stared at her intently, as if trying to read her soul. "When I get it," he said reflectively. "I'll let you know."

Angel ran a hand across her face. "Do you…do you want to rape me? Is that what this is? Some kind of bondage foreplay that's going to end in chains?"

Benoit held her gaze. "You'd probably like that, you goddamn little whore."

Angel swung to slap him, but he caught her arm and threw it down. 

"Well, I hate to disappoint you, but no," he informed her. "It's never been about sex with you."

Angel gulped in a breath of air. "What then?"

Benoit turned away, flexing his muscles. This only pissed Angel off more. 

"What do you want?" she demanded.

Benoit turned back slowly, his expression cool. "I want Angle or Regal."

Angel glowered at him. "I can't get you that!"

"No, you can't, can you?" Benoit asked softly. "Because I didn't warn you first. Well, consider yourself warned. Tonight I'll take Jericho but on Thursday you will get me Regal or Angle. Otherwise, you can pack your bags, little girl, because you will be going home."

Angel stared at him fearlessly, but with that rock still firmly implanted in her stomach. She'd just learned the hard way exactly how risky stipulation matches were. But she had to try for another one. Rhyno and Test. They were her only way out.

"Speaking of Thursday," Benoit continued suddenly. "Pack your bags anyway. It's Easter break."

Angel stared at him dumbly as though those words were suddenly foreign to her. "Break?"  
Benoit nodded. "We're off from Friday until Monday."

"Off?" Angel spluttered.

Benoit stared at her. "You're not Rhyno."

Angel shook her head as if to clear it. "Where would I go? It's too far to go home."

"I don't care," Benoit shrugged. "But you're not coming with me. You are not now nor ever will be a part of that life."

"I wouldn't want to be," Angel dismissed him irritably, before pondering the problem at hand. "Florida?" she said out loud. "No, if it's Easter, Lita will be there too and I could really do without putting up with more of her shit."

"Figure it out, princess," Benoit advised, walking over to turn the TV on. He was a little pissed off, actually. For a moment then, he'd broken through. She was crying like a little baby and he hadn't even put her in crossface. He could literally feel her breaking as hopelessness began to transform into fear. But then, she'd looked up and stared at him with those eyes. He'd hunted and hunted, staring deep into her, but still he didn't find it. Still she didn't fear him. He was so close, though. He could feel it waiting for him, if only he found a few more buttons to push. And then she'd crumble before him, oh how she'd crumble. Even the most perfectly crafted sandcastle couldn't withstand the rage and unpredictability of the ocean. It would be his victory. No one could stop him. He stared over at her as she hugged her knees tightly and babbled to herself. Just one look at her like that and he knew just how close he really was. So damn close!

Suddenly, there was her friend. They called him the man beast. They said he was unstoppable. Well, Benoit had seen into his eyes and picked it straight away. Unlike the girl's, Rhyno's eyes held fear. A lot of it. That was almost all they _did_ hold. And that was why he attacked so viciously, often without reason. He was scared of what would happen if he didn't.

Right now, he raced into the room and stopped in front of Benoit.

"I'll take her," he said quickly, pointing towards the girl. "I'm taking Angel."

Benoit took a step backwards and nodded smugly, enjoying the sight of those frightened eyes. "Be my guest."

Rhyno looked confused, but then he nodded, grabbed the girl and made his escape.

Benoit watched them go. The man who feared everything carrying the girl who feared nothing. But if he told anyone that, they wouldn't believe him. People were so disappointing, sometimes.

* * * *

"What today, Rhyno?" Angel asked as he carried her towards the stage.

"Handicap," Rhyno replied. "Hollys."

"Crash and Hardcore?" Angel asked, knowing that Hardcore had been out injured for weeks.

"No. The little ones. Both of them. Hollys."

"Molly?" Angel cried.

"Uh huh," Rhyno nodded as his music started and he stepped out onto the stage. "And the other one."

But Angel couldn't get past the fact that Molly was involved. So she had challenged Rhyno. She really was out of her mind. Oh well, Angel had tried to set her straight. If Molly got hurt tonight it wasn't on her head – it was on Crash's.

Rhyno deposited Angel at ringside and got straight into it with Crash, swinging a wild right hand. He missed and Crash went on the attack, rolling Rhyno up for a cradle, but only getting a one count. Crash was up first, leaping onto Rhyno's shoulders and punching him in the head. Next he sent him for an Irish whip, but Rhyno reversed it into a powerbomb.

"Yeah, Rhy!" Angel applauded.

Rhyno bounced to his feet and beckoned Crash. "Come on, get up!"

Suddenly, Molly tapped him from outside the ropes and when he spun around she slapped him across the face.

This was just the distraction Crash needed, leaping and dragging Rhyno down with a hurricanrana into another rollup. This time he got two.

Rhyno was back up in a flash and brought Crash down with a clothesline, before taking a break to rub his sore head. He raised his right fist.

"Who's the man?"

"You are!" Angel cried, but this time not as many fans echoed her sentiments.

"Damn Beantown," she muttered, before concentrating on the action again.

Rhyno had sent Crash for a whip and then a belly to belly suplex. He went for the pin and got a two count.

Angel's hands flew to her head. "Close, Rhy! Go again!"

Crash suddenly surprised Rhyno with a few punches and a flying clothesline. He sent Rhyno for another whip, but reversal followed reversal until Rhyno broke an attempted sunset flip.

"Way to go, Rhy!" Angel cried. "Don't fall for that."

But Crash almost immediately flew off the ropes for a cross-body takedown and another two-count. Another whip into more reversals, before Crash ducked a flying right and turned around, right into a gore. Rhyno made the cover and one…two…three.

"Yeah Rhyno!" Angel screamed, tapping wildly on the apron. "Rhy, look out!" she cried as Molly jumped onto his back. Rhyno snapped, grabbed Molly by the hair and slammed her down onto the canvas. He stood in the opposite corner, waiting for her to find her feet, waiting to gore her, when suddenly someone else leaped into the ring. Hardcore Holly. He was of a similar size to Rhyno and started punching him as Angel cried out in dismay.

"No, Hardcore! Let him go! Come on, Rhyno! Fight back!"

But it wasn't to be as Hardcore threw Rhyno from the ring, then high-tenned Crash and nodded at Molly, before the three cousins exited together.

The TV and Titantron switched to Vince McMahon and his daughter Stephanie as Angel crouched beside her friend.

"Are you okay, Rhyno?" she asked.

"No!" Rhyno cried, rubbing his head. "It's good! It's good! Yes!"

Angel took his hand and helped him to his feet.

"Let's get out of here," she suggested, putting an arm around him for support and gently touching his head with her other hand.

"No!" Rhyno cried. "Let go! Let go!"

He shoved her away and she stared at him, bewildered, as he began to grin. A sinister grin. A grin she had once been terrified of, but was now used to.

Bam! Rhyno's shoulder slammed into her stomach and she fell onto the hard ground. She'd never even seen it coming. She let out a surprised and agonized wail, doubling over as pain spread from her abdomen like fire through bushland. 

Rhyno stood over her a few feet away, beckoning her to stand. "Get up!" he cried. "Come on, get up!"

But Angel just lay there, clutching her stomach and sobbing. She wasn't going anywhere.

* * * *

Two of the many people who'd seen it on closed circuit, non-Titantron TV, sprang into action, racing down the hall. They met each other just as they reached the backstage area and each was acutely aware of the other's presence. They didn't speak, but both knew that this would be one of those times where they would work as a team, just by following their instincts. 

Benoit went for Rhyno, slamming his fists into his back, then quickly going for a trio of Germans on the thin ringside crash-mats, before finally throwing him into the steel steps.

Test went for Angel.

"Hey, beautiful, are you okay?"

Angel was still screaming in pain and couldn't answer, so Test scooped her up into his arms and carried her up the ramp. He'd lost track of Benoit and Rhyno, but he didn't care. What mattered was getting this girl some medical attention.

* * * *

Angel was still crying and coughing when she and Test reached the trainer's room.

"My friend just got gored," Test announced. "Can you help her?"

"Of course. Set her down."

Test peered down at Angel. "Okay, we're here. I'm just going to put you down and they'll fix you up good as new. Okay?"  
Angel responded by coughing loudly and throwing up.

Test took a deep breath, but kept his cool.

"I didn't want to wear this shirt anyway," he muttered, pulling it off.

Angel still wailed as the EMTs checked her.

"Don't touch me!" she screamed. "Oh, God! It hurts! Please help me! It hurts!"

"Okay, we're trying to help you. Tell us where it hurts."

"My stomach! Help, please!" Angel cried, tears streaming down her face. "Test! Test! Make them help me!"

Test frowned. "Can you give her some drugs or something?" he asked, trying to get a word in edgewise over Angel's wails.

"You know what, pally?" one of the EMTs asked. "I think that's a great idea."

* * * *

"Test, Test, this is a Test," Angel sang cheerfully as he carried her in his arms. The drug had started working soon after it was injected and Angel was feeling good. Better than good. Great. Better than great. Freaking euphoric.

"Test, Test, this is a Test!"

Test smiled down at her. It was cute of her to try to sing his entrance music, but it was very obvious that those were the only words she knew as she tunefully but incoherently mumbled the rest of the song.

"Daba da da – hey! Daba da…hey, Test?"

"Yeah, babe?"

Angel reached up and caressed his face. "You know…you're pretty. Really pretty. Anyone ever said that to you?"

Test grinned. "Well, I usually get sexy or even handsome, but thanks, I guess."

"You're welcome!" Angel cried, stroking his face again. "Test, Test, this is a Test."

Test smiled as she started playing with his hair. "How's that stomach doing?"

Angel clumsily lifted the bottom of her tube top, almost too far. "Ow!" she cried. "Still hurts!"

"Sorry," Test frowned. "How about this. Does this hurt?"

"No, that kinda tickles," Angel giggled as his fingers danced along her back.

"Oh, it does, does it?" Test grinned.

"Hey!" Angel shrieked, dissolving into giggles. "Stop it! Test! Cut it out!"

Test just grinned wickedly and kept tickling her.

* * * *

Lita was in a hurry. She just had to catch Linda McMahon before she left. That speech had been one of the most inspiring things Lita had ever heard. It gave her such hope, made her feel empowered as a woman, made her realize that anything was possible, that men were nothing but women's equals – if that. She raced down the hallway, hoping to intercept Linda in the parking lot.

She looked up ahead and rolled her eyes. Test was walking towards her and he was all over the hallway. He held some girl in his arms and they were laughing together. Lita tried to dodge them, but it was almost as though they were purposely aiming for her.

Finally, she actually had to stop before she ran straight into them.

"God, Test!" she cried irritably.

Test peered down at her with a positively goofy grin. "Oh, sorry, Lita."

"That's okay, just get out my way!" Lita pushed past them and continued on her way.

Test and Angel? Lita honestly hadn't expected that. She wondered what Jeff would say when he found out. The poor little guy still wasn't over Angel, although he'd never admit it. Well, now he'd have to get over her. She was obviously taken again.

Test and Angel. Angel and Test. Lita was surprised. Sure, Test was kind of sexy, but wasn't he a little oh, slow for Angel? Then again, good old Tim hadn't exactly been what Lita would call the smartest cookie in the carton. And hey, Test had mellowed into an almost cool guy since he'd stopped hanging with Albert and Trish. Maybe he'd actually be a good influence on Lita's deviant cousin. Suddenly, Lita stopped her thoughts. Why was she wasting her time thinking about Angel, of all people? She had a McMahon to catch!

* * * *

"Lita! Lita! Lita!" Angel chanted as Test continued carrying her. "She's my cousin, didja know?"

"No, I didn't know that," Test replied. 

"Yep, my cousin," Angel continued. "She hates my guts."

"Oh, Angel," Test consoled her. "I'm sure she doesn't."

"Sure she does!" Angel cried. "Jeff n' Matt too."

Test gave her a funny look as she slurred her words. "Okay, you're a little high, so I'll let it go."

"Okay, Test. Test, Test, this is a Test."

Test grinned and gripped her carefully. She was kinda cute when she was high.

* * * *

Finally, after some Test-designed detours and several renditions of his theme song, they reached Benoit's locker room.

Benoit took one look at them and nodded coolly. "Good. She's back. Set her down, we have to get to my match."

Test frowned and didn't let go of Angel. "Don't you want to know what happened?"

"Not really. If she's alive, she's my valet. That's the deal."

"You don't even care that she got gored?" Test challenged.

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "I got revenge. I gave Rhyno something to think about. What more do you want?"

Test shook his head slowly. "Now I know why she hates you. You're an asshole."

Benoit's eyebrows rose even higher. "I'd watch what you say to me, kid. You don't want me as your enemy."

Test gave Benoit the once-over, giving him the 'I'm twice your size and we both know it' look he'd last used on Eddie. "I don't see why you're making her go."

"No, you don't. It has nothing to do with you. So, just put her down and leave."

Test started to speak, but Angel grabbed his face with her left hand, pressing her right index finger against his lips. "Shh. It's okay. I don't want you getting in trouble. You can let me down now."

Test sighed and stood her on her feet, his arms hooked protectively around her shoulders.

Angel grinned wildly at Benoit. "Okay, Benoit. Let's go to your match. But you better make it good or I'm gonna fall asleep, okay?"

Benoit gave her a strange look, before raising his eyes to Test. "What's wrong with her?" he demanded.

"She was in a lot of pain. They gave her something. I don't know what. Calmed her right down."

Benoit scowled. "Let's get something straight. Never, ever give that girl drugs without my knowledge again, you hear me?"

Test mirrored his glare. "You're not her father."

"No, and you're not her boyfriend. But I do own her, so what I say goes, okay?"

"Okay, Benoit," Angel cried cheerfully. She tilted her head up towards Test's and tried to whisper, although her voice emerged loud and clear.

"Just go along with what he says. Trust me, it's easier that way."

Test gave her a half-smile, then glared over at Benoit. "I guess I'd better go."

Angel frowned and twisted in his grasp so that she was facing him. "Go? No, don't go. Come down to the match. Benoit's gonna kick Jericho's ass."

Test gave her a sympathetic smile. "No, it's okay. I don't think I'll be welcome down there. But I will see you later." He drew her into his arms for a friendly hug.

"Mmm," Angel murmured, her face pressed against his chest. "You smell good. Bye-bye, Test," she cried cheerfully as he released her.

"Later, Angel."

Angel turned to Benoit, sleepy smile still in place. "He smells good," she announced.

Benoit nodded slowly and grabbed her wrist, leading her to the door. "So I hear."

Angel sighed contentedly as he led her along.

"I really like him. Test, I mean. I like him."

"No, you don't," Benoit muttered.

"Yeah, I do. And you know what else, Benoit?"

"What?" Benoit asked impatiently, not turning back. 

"I like you too."

Benoit stopped in his tracks and turned around with a skeptical look on his face. "Exactly how drugged _are_ you?"

Angel just grinned at him and started singing again. "Test, Test, this is a Test."

Benoit let out an exasperated sigh and led her along again. "I'm gonna kill Test."

* * * *

'Shooter' was playing and Benoit solemnly dragged Angel down the ramp, towards the ring. 

"Hey!" Angel cried. "I can't sing Test's song to this!"

"Shut up," Benoit scowled, releasing her as he climbed into the ring. "You stay down there and don't move."

"Okay!" Angel cried cheerfully as a countdown started, followed by an explosion.

"Ow!" Angel cried, reaching to her ears. "That was loud!"

She squinted at the golden-haired man as he made his way down the ramp. Chris Jericho. She knew she hated him, she just didn't quite remember why.

"Because he has purple tights," she decided, nodding her head. "Not very blokey."

No sooner had Jericho entered the ring and begun staring off Benoit, than another entrance song started playing. William Regal appeared, dressed in a ref's shirt and holding a microphone. He explained that he was really the only choice of official for such an epic battle.

Angel nodded at him solemnly and held up her fist. "Rock on!"

Regal wiped his feet on the apron and entered the ring, then signaled for Benoit and Jericho to start.

"Yeah!" Angel cried, tapping on the apron. "Let's get it on!"

Benoit and Jericho circled each other then pushed each other around for awhile until Regal told them to get on with it and start fighting properly.

They circled again and the fight was really on. Benoit, Jericho, Benoit, Jericho. It was like watching tennis.

'Except they don't let the crowd go 'Regal sucks' at the tennis,' Angel noted.

All in all, Angel decided the crowd was far too negative. She wanted to change things, so she clapped her hands above her head and began to chant.

"Benoit! Benoit! Benoit!" She stopped when she realized the fans weren't following her lead. 'Oh well. There's just no saving some people.'

Suddenly, Benoit made a waistlock on Jericho and pulled him over for a series of German suplexes. Angel took one look at them and burst out laughing.

Above her head, Regal was ignoring the match and waving at the crowd.

"Hi Commissioner Regal!" Angel cried cheerfully, waving up at him.

"Hello, Miss Torres!" Regal called back. "How are you?"

"I'm great!" she cried, but at that moment, Benoit tapped Regal on the back, demanding to know why his pin on Jericho hadn't been counted.

"Benoit needs to lighten up," Angel decided as Jericho surprised him from behind. "Maybe I should try to start the chant again. Benoit! Benoit! Benoit!" Still the crowd didn't join in, so she just waved them off. "Man, I'm sleepy," she realized. "This match is taking too long."

Back in the ring, Jericho went for a missile dropkick but hit Regal, supposedly by mistake. Then, after clotheslining Benoit, Regal rushed in and shoved Jericho to the mat. Benoit got up, only to be himself shoved down by Regal.

Now the two Canadians both found their feet and both glared at Regal. The commissioner tried to keep the peace, but Jericho kicked him, then Benoit punched him. Jericho also punched him and finally Benoit tried to tear off the ref's shirt. He'd had about all he could take of pseudo referees these past two nights. Now Jericho and Benoit played knife-edge chop ping pong with Regal, before Benoit suplexed him and left him in the middle for the Jericho lionsault. Jericho hit it and he too stepped out the way as Benoit flew in his headbutt. The two supposed enemies were working together beautifully. Jericho grabbed Regal's legs and turned him over into the Walls of Jericho and finally, as the finishing touch, Benoit trapped his arm and locked on the crossface. They both had their prey now and they weren't letting go. It took four refs and then finally, begrudgingly, they released.

Benoit and Jericho stood in the ring, staring each other off. They weren't even supposed to like each other and yet they'd just worked together to kick the WWF commissioner's ass. They were now in deep shit and they were in it together. Neither of them really knew how they felt about that. 

Benoit finally tore his eyes away from his old enemy and looked around for the stoned little whore. Where the heck was she? Had she skipped out on his match to go see Test or something? If she had, she'd pay, that was certain. Puzzled, he circled the ring twice, hunting her down. Finally he spotted a single shiny black boot protruding from under the ring. Shaking his head furiously, Benoit lifted the cover. There she was – curled up in a tight little ball, fast asleep, oblivious to the noise of the ring, the crowd and the PA system. He grabbed her boot and firmly dragged her out. She stirred but didn't wake as Benoit gave her a long hard look. As usual, her midriff beneath her tube top was exposed and already a vicious bruise was beginning to make its presence felt. If he put her over his shoulder it would be agony for her – even with the drugs. So, he picked her up as Test had carried her and started up the ramp. She didn't even wake up, but murmured quietly and snuggled against his neck. 

Benoit shook his head slowly. It was probably morphine or something like it. Turned you dopey, then put you to sleep. She'd wake up knowing real pain the next morning. That's why she shouldn't have had drugs at all.

"Pain makes you stronger," he muttered as he made it to the backstage area and headed to the locker room. He spotted someone very useful hanging out in the hallway, looking bored as he usually did. Jim Dotson, head of WWF security. 

"Hey, Dotson. You think you could take this girl and meet me at my rental car? Black Ford. I don't know what model. Massachusetts plates."

Dotson raised his eyebrows. "Is it a truck?"  
Benoit shook his head. "Sedan. Can you do that?" he asked, with only slightly less mocking that usual.

Dotson reached out and took Angel from him. "Yeah, no problem."

Benoit nodded solemnly and continued on his way. Goddamn morphine. "I'm gonna kill Test."

*************************************************************

A/N- There you go, for those who thought Lita wouldn't be in this again. This one was also my little tribute to Jim Dotson, who hasn't worked for the company since about the time this was set. And thank God I proofed it before posting, I found about a trillion mistakes and I bet there's more in there I missed. I am literate, I just suck at typing, plus I kind of like to invent my own sentence structure ;-P. Thanks a bunch to all reviewers, especially Andraste McMahon and Shadow. Check out their ficcies, especially Shadow's 'The Fire Within'. You won't be disappointed. Cheers!


	38. An End To Censorship?

Title: An End To Censorship?

Rating: PG-13 for violence, angst, adult themes and language

Spoilers: For Smackdown and the previous Raw, including direct dialogue by Chris Jericho, Chris Benoit, Test, Jeff Hardy (yes, Jeff Hardy!), The GoodFather, Val Venis and Bull Buchanan (phew, that's a lot of direct dialogue)

Summary: Some news about Lita might just force Angel to change her tune…or then again, it might not

SMACKDOWN, APRIL 12TH, 2001

Angel slowly put the phone down and wiped away tears.

"Benoit," she said, her voice shaking slightly.

Benoit looked up from the TV and stared at her expectantly. 

"Did you…did you know Lita got beaten up?"

Benoit simply nodded.

"Who…who did it?"

Benoit blinked. "Does it matter?"  
"Yeah, it does," Angel said tearfully. "Who would do that to her? What kind of sick freak…?" She trailed off, overcome by emotion.

"Triple H and your old friend Stone Cold," Benoit informed her.

"Austin? Why? Why would he _do _that?"

Benoit shrugged. "Same reason anyone attacks anyone around here. She got in the way."

"But…why?" Angel asked, before dissolving into tears. "I don't understand."  
Benoit frowned and watched her for a few minutes. "Why are you crying?" he demanded.

Angel furiously raised her head. "Isn't it obvious?"

"How many times do I have to tell you you're wasting your time?" Benoit scowled. "I bet you even think Rhyno didn't gore you on purpose."

Angel frowned. "Rhyno didn't gore me on purpose. I touched his injured head and he just snapped. It could have happened to anyone."

"Wake up, princess!" Benoit cried. "Nobody likes you. Nobody cares about you. Not Lita, not the Hardyz, not Molly Holly, not Rhyno. Nobody!"

Angel swallowed furiously. "Test likes me."

"Now, yes, but once he gets you in bed he'll stop hanging around too."  
"Look," Angel scowled. "Whether or not Lita cares about me, I care about her. She's my cousin and they…they just beat her up. She nearly died! I just…I wish I knew why!" She broke off and nodded to herself. "I'm gonna call her. I don't care what happened between us. This is more important." She picked up the phone again. 

"Wasting your time," Benoit repeated as she dialed and held the receiver to her ear. 

"Hi? Yeah, it's me again. Listen. Is Lita there? I mean, is she okay? Can I talk to her? Can she talk to me? She is? Oh." Angel's face fell. "Uh huh. Yep. No, it's okay. I understand. Thanks. Bye." She put the phone down and burst into tears again.

Benoit was far from compassionate. "I told you."  
Angel bounced to her feet, sweeping the tears from her eyes. "Just…just leave me alone, okay?" she spat, heading for her room. "Just go rot in hell!"

She slammed the door behind her as Benoit watched, unaffected. If she couldn't handle the truth, that was her own damn fault.

* * * *

Angel spread the travel brochures across the table as she waited for Benoit to return with the food. After her aunt had told her that she was the last person Lita wanted to talk to, she'd been chewed out about going into the business that had almost killed Lita.

"No doubt Lita's told them all about what I supposedly did to Jeff," she muttered, picking up the brochure entitled 'See Florida' and tossing it over her shoulder. Florida was definitely out, as was North Carolina – Hardy country. That left forty-eight states and then there was Canada…or Mexico. Mexico would be nice. Warm…plenty of hot guys on the beaches of Acapulco. Yeah, that'd be nice. And it wouldn't be so lonely, either. Wherever she went, she was going alone.

Benoit arrived and set down the food before silently starting to eat.

"How's Edmonton this time of year?" Angel asked antagonistically.

"Cold," Benoit replied, refusing to play her game.

"Of course," Angel smirked. "You'll be there."

"Keep hunting," Benoit advised. "They don't let whores into Canada."

"Competition for your high-class strip joints, huh?" Angel asked, reaching for her food. "I hear they're the best."

"And you'd know," Benoit replied. 

Angel grinned across at him, picked up a carrot stick and slowly put the whole thing in her mouth. Then she pursed her lips, put her fingers up to them and slowly, slowly withdrew the carrot again, before holding it up in front of her. 

"You think you know me," she said softly. "You will never know me. You are lost and scared. You know what I allow you to know. You're…"

"Just a puppet?" Benoit asked, eyebrows raised.

Angel smirked. "Got it in one."

"How uncreative of you," Benoit said. "And you know something? They don't like you either."

"They don't?" Angel asked, finally munching on the carrot stick. "Let me quote you something you didn't hear the first time. 'Angel face? We love her.' 'Totally!' That sound like people who don't like me?"  
Benoit was unfazed. "They will turn against you. You attacked their friend. Which, incidentally, is the reason you got gored on Monday."

"You're so fatalistic, Benoit. Just 'cause you don't have any friends, you don't want me to have any either. Well, you know what? I'm not going to fall for it. Hey, maybe I'll get Edge _and_ Christian _and_ Rhyno to take you on. Sound fun?"

Benoit smirked. "Yes, it does sound fun, princess. Fantasy always is."

* * * *

Angel had never really been nervous about going to see Regal before, except for the first time, and that had been because she hadn't known what to expect. Now she had that exact same problem. It had all been so easy before, when good ideas for matches came so easily and then when she and Regal had been united in their quest to take Benoit down a notch – or seven. Now she was walking a very thin line. Fall one way and she faced losing Regal's support, something she needed desperately when the time came to set up her next freedom match. Fall the other way and she might as well be falling off a cliff because she would be gone. So, like a tightrope walker, she metaphorically put her arms out to steady herself and slowly began her march.

"Sorry to bother you, sir." Start by being polite and submissive. He'd dig that.

Regal looked up and gave her a smile. "That's quite alright, my dear. How may I help you?"  
"I need a match for Benoit. He wants you or Angle." Out with it. Wait for reaction.

"I'm positive he does. What do you suppose I should give him, however? The Big Show, perhaps?"

Angel shook her head. "I think you should give him you or Angle."

But Regal wasn't listening. "Perhaps Kane? How does Chris Benoit feel about the hardcore title?"  
Angel blinked and took a deep breath. "He wants you or Angle."

"I know that, but do you not think that he deserves something like a hardcore match? He certainly showed on Monday night that he is prepared to cheat and cheating runs rampant in that division. I know you yourself are a fan of hardcore…"

"No," Angel cut him off, feeling her body tense even further. "You don't understand. He's not going to be happy unless I get him you or Angle."

Regal frowned at her strangely. "No, I'm not sure I do understand. Are you suggesting that I give Mr. Benoit the match of his choosing?"

Angel swallowed and nodded. "Yes."

"Even after what he and Chris Jericho did on Monday night?"

"Yes."

"So, you mean to tell me that you condone besmirchment such as this?"  
"No, I don't," Angel said evenly. "But I am his manager and I have to do my job."  
Regal ran a long, thin finger under his nose and made a face as if Angel's words were the rankest of odors. "Well, it seems it's up to me to restore order then, isn't it?"

Angel stayed silent and waited for him to go on.

"Jericho and Benoit are one another's nemeses and yet they refuse to fight for supremacy. If they want tag, I shall give them tag, and then we shall see their camaraderie implode. You may tell Benoit he has his match, and that Chris Jericho will be joining him."

"Against you and Angle?"

Regal nodded. "If that's what the toe rag wants, he shall have it."

Angel nodded as relief washed over her. "Thank you, sir." She turned to leave.

"You're most welcome. Oh, and Miss Torres? If you needed help, you wouldn't be too timid to ask, correct?"

Angel cocked her head, surprised by his words. 

"Of course not," she replied, giving a little smile. "And thanks, but right now I have a few things in the works. I'll survive."

Regal nodded as she left. "Yes, my girl. I'm sure you will."

* * * *

"I got you what you wanted so don't even look at me like that," Angel scowled as she pushed past Benoit and into the locker room.

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "Which one?"

"Both," Angel replied, digging in her bag for her beauty products.

"Handicap again?" Benoit asked warily.

"No. Tag."

"Let me guess. My partner is your favorite toy?"  
"No," Angel replied, still not looking at him. "Unless you _want_ me to play with Jericho."

"Jericho," Benoit echoed.

Angel finally looked up briefly. "Don't sound so surprised. You know it's what you wanted."

"I never said that," Benoit frowned. "All I said was I wanted…"

"God, I know what you wanted!" Angel snapped, throwing her compact down with almost enough force to smash it. "You never shut up about it." Benoit glared at her as she stared back, shaking her head in disgust. "You want me to go back on my hands and knees and change it?"  
Benoit stared at her for a long time before replying. "No. It's fine."

Angel frowned her disbelief. "You mean you're happy?"

Benoit nodded coolly. "I'm happy."

"Well, good," Angel replied, turning back to her makeup. "Then you can leave me alone until match time."

Benoit simply nodded and turned away. He stepped over to his bag, then spotted something sitting on top of it. He picked it up and threw it at Angel. "Here. This came for you."

Not looking up, Angel reached out her right hand and caught the object, then brought it down so she could see it.

"What's this?" she frowned, turning to Benoit accusingly. "I didn't order any clothes."

"No. I ordered it."

"Oh really? What's the matter, the tube top's not doing it for you anymore?"

Benoit just stared at her expressionlessly. "If you want to show your bruised stomach to the world, that's up to you. I don't care."

Angel peered down at her black and blue midriff. She'd gotten so used to the pain she'd forgotten all about it. She nodded slowly. It definitely wasn't her most attractive feature.

"Okay," she said slowly. "I'll try it on."

She picked it up and stood, before realizing that this particular locker room didn't have a screen. She immediately spun to Benoit with a fierce glare. "Can you turn around?"  
He just stood there, giving her that Benoit look he was so good at.

"I mean it," Angel snapped. "If you think I'm going to let you see me naked, you're really dreaming."  
Benoit coolly raised his eyebrows. "You're extremely vain."

"And you're extremely a dirty old pervert, so turn your ass around!"

Benoit shook his head slowly, but finally turned around.

Keeping one suspicious eye on Benoit in the mirror, Angel changed tops. She stared at her reflection. It was a black and purple tank top – low cut, but the bottom of it just covered the edge of her pants. Across the top, in funky letters, was the word 'Crippler'. Angel started to grin so she quickly bit her lower lip.

"I love it!" she blurted.

Benoit spun around. "Don't be facetious."

"No!" Angel cried. "I have 'Crippler' written across my boobs. That is awesome!"

Benoit slowly shook his head. "I don't get it."

"No, you don't," Angel laughed. "What a crack up!"

Benoit gave her a strange look, shook his head again and stepped over to turn on the TV.

* * * *

Angel was doing pushups (crunches killed her stomach too much) when there was a knock at the door. Benoit frowned over at her but she made no move to get up, despite the fact that she could feel his gaze burning into her.

"Do I look like a butler?" she asked in between counting.

Benoit slowly shook his head and stepped over to open the door.

"Hey Benoit."

"Jericho," Benoit replied evenly, sizing him up. They stepped back into the room, paying no attention whatsoever to Angel. 

"Some match tonight," Jericho commented.

Benoit just nodded.

"They're trying to screw us. You do know that?"  
Benoit frowned. "You and me against Regal and Angle. Can we possibly lose?"

Jericho drew back, surprised. "You haven't heard? Weren't you watching?" He turned suspiciously to the still-blaring TV and then back to Benoit.

"What?" Benoit frowned.

"Elroy's out of commission. Stupid Bob wants to take on Rhyno. That leaves the frat-boys from hell without opponents. You and me are suckers of the year."

Benoit's frown deepened. "In English, perhaps?"

Jericho smirked. "Crash Holly just got gored by Rhyno while he was talking to Garcia…"

"I know that," Benoit scowled. 

"Okay, and he and Hardcore were supposed to have a tag title shot tonight. Obviously the little guy's not gonna make it. So, you and me get Edge and Christian instead."

Benoit formed his glare. "I thought we had Regal and Angle."  
"We do," Jericho replied. "We're too good for two opponents so they gave us four."

"What?" Benoit snapped, turning his glare to Angel. "Did you do this?"

"What, get Rhyno to attack Crash so you'd get your ass kicked by four guys? Wish I could take credit for it, actually. It's brilliant."

"Go back to Regal," Benoit scowled.

Angel still didn't move out of her rhythm. "I got you what you wanted. How Regal changes things is not my fault. You don't like it, fix it yourself."

Benoit glowered at her. "You listen to me, you little bitch. If you think you can…"

Suddenly, he felt a firm hand on his shoulder, so he spun around and refocused his fury on Jericho.

Jericho didn't back down. "Look, this isn't helping," he pointed out, slowly removing his hand. "What's the deal with you and her anyway?"  
Benoit breathed deeply and tried to relax his scowl. "Nothing. She's nothing." He then closed his mouth and stared intently at Jericho, leaving no doubt as to who the spokesman in this particular partnership was going to be.

"The match," Benoit said at last.

"Right," Jericho nodded. "Well, you know we're being set up to be screwed, right?"

"So you said," Benoit reminded him. "Your point?"

"Okay," Jericho said carefully. "You're a great wrestler. You may even be the greatest technical wrestler in the WWF."

Angel rolled her eyes and made sucking noises with her mouth as she sat up into a stretch.

Jericho ignored her and continued. "But you're not a rocket scientist." Benoit raised his eyebrows threateningly. Jericho knew it was time to back-pedal. "Hey, I'm no rocket scientist either. But it doesn't take one to figure out we totally humiliated and embarrassed Regal on Raw Monday night…"

Angel cocked her head and peered over at them. "Are you two sleeping together or what?"  
Jericho didn't skip a beat. "Sure, why? You wanna join in?"  
"Mmm," Angel mused. "Two prime slices of Canadian bacon? Bring it on!"

Before Jericho could think of a reply, Benoit cut in. "Shut the hell up or you can leave."

Angel smirked. "I don't know that I can trust you two to be alone together."

"Shut up!" Benoit screamed.

Angel just shut her mouth and started a new stretch. So Jericho was quick with a comeback. Maybe this alliance would be fun after all.

* * * *

By the time Angel and Benoit made their way to the ring, all four members of the other team were already there. Benoit stopped at the bottom of the ramp, but Angel continued her walk, stepping into her friends' corner. It was the first time she'd seen Edge, Christian or Kurt since Sunday. She wouldn't have shed a tear if Kurt had died since then, but she was glad to see Edge and Christian.

"Hey guys," she called to her two blonde friends. They didn't answer, obviously too focused on the match as Jericho made his entrance.

As soon as Jericho reached Benoit, they both dove into the ring and it was on. Benoit and Jericho had two opponents each and looked to be in trouble right from the outset.

"Yeah Regal! Go Edge! Hit him!" Angel cried as they attacked Benoit.

As if fueled by her anti-him cheers, Benoit managed to somehow battle back. He threw Regal over the top rope before reversing an Irish whip into a suplex on Edge as Jericho cleaned house with Christian first and then Kurt. The moment Edge's back slammed into the canvas, Benoit spread his arms, signaling the headbutt.

"Come on, Edge!" Angel cried, leaning on the apron and spurring him on by tapping the canvas. "Get up, Edge. Get up!"

But before Edge could even move, Jericho leaped from the ropes and hit the lionsault. Kurt arrived in hot pursuit as Benoit grappled with Regal and then dropped him, freeing Benoit to climb to the top.

"No, no!" Angel cried. "Christian! Where's Christian?"

She raced around the ring and finally found him. "Come on, Christian, get in there and help Edge." Summoning all her strength, she grabbed Christian by the waist and boosted him into the ring. He arrived just in time to break the cover Benoit had made on Edge, after landing the headbutt. 

"Yeah, Christian!" Angel cried as Christian his a reverse neckbreaker on Benoit and started kicking him. Angel climbed up onto the apron to get a better look. "Yeah, Christian! Kick him! Stomp on him! Yeah!"

Christian grabbed Benoit and began to drag him towards the corner, but he stopped and shoved him down instead. Next he flew into the ropes, leaped Benoit and hurtled across the ring, slamming his fists into Angel's face and knocking her off the apron.

Angel lay dazed on the ground for a moment before moving. Bewildered, she picked herself up and moved her hand to her cheekbone. Another day, another bruise. Why the hell had Christian hit her?

'Must've seen movement and thought I was Jericho,' she decided. 'Can't blame him for that.'

She grabbed the rope in both hands and concentrated on the action again.

Kurt was in, trying to finish off Benoit. Angel narrowed her eyes and moved one hand to her eyebrow, which still sported a Band-Aid. Son of a bitch. She might have hated Benoit, but Kurt had just joined Steven Richards and Eddie Guerrero on the list of people she hated more. 

"Congratulations," she spat as Kurt hit a suplex and cried out, "Whoo!" "You are one of the chosen few."

She was just deciding whether or not she could stomach cheering for Benoit, when Kurt tagged in Edge. At least he'd done _that _properly.

"Let's go, Edge!"

In between kicks, Edge hit a powerslam and then tagged his brother. But just as Christian was going for another neckbreaker, Benoit countered with a weak knife-edge chop. Christian whipped him into the corner, but Benoit raised his legs as Christian attacked, sending him backwards.

Benoit scowled and slowly shook his head. "Son of a bitch!" he screamed, stopping Christian's approach with a huge knife-edge chop, and then another. Struggling for air, Christian grabbed him for yet another neckbreaker, but Benoit simply threw him away in a belly to belly suplex, which dropped them both. 

"Come on, Christian!" Angel cried. "Don't take that! Tag Regal, Christian! Tag Regal!"

Seconds later, Christian tagged Kurt and Benoit tagged Jericho.

Angel formed her scowl and decided to ignore the match for a while.

"Hey, Benoit. How's your back?"

He was gasping for air and trying to watch Kurt and Jericho. "How's your face?" he muttered.

Angel raised her hand to her cheek again. "It'll leave a mark. Oh well. Hey, what do you think about Christian's green tights? They're like…shiny."

"Princess. He punched you in the face."

"I know," Angel shrugged. "Heat of battle. I shouldn't have been standing on the apron."

"You're a fool," Benoit breathed.

"Yeah, I know. I won't stand on the apron anymore. I've learned my lesson."

"No," Benoit murmured. "Apparently you haven't."

Just then Jericho reversed an Angle backslide and started to put him in the Walls of Jericho. Regal climbed in to interfere, but Benoit was over there in a flash, locking on the crossface. Christian attacked Jericho only to have the walls put on him, as Edge went for a spear on Benoit and found himself n crossface. Edge started to tap, but the ref was watching Jericho and Christian. Just then, Angle leaped in, gabbed Jericho and threw him in the Angle Slam. Kurt made the cover, hooked Jericho's leg and the ref counted the three.

At the sound of the bell, Angel dove into the ring to help get Benoit away from Edge, but Kurt spotted her and decided to cut short his celebration. He grabbed her easily and before she could even argue, he'd suplexed her from the ring. She landed with a thud on the ground, feeling the impact right on her neck.

"Argh!" she screamed, rolling onto her stomach and grabbing at the back of her neck with both hands. "Goddamn Kurt Angle!"

Suddenly, Benoit jumped down next to her.

"How many times do I have to make that bitch tap before they'll give me the win?"  
He looked down, spotted Angel and noticed she was still on the ground. Sighing, he reached down to put her over his shoulder.

"Let me down!" she cried, punching and kicking at him. "I can walk. I'm fine."

"You don't look fine," called a voice.

Finally on her feet, Angel spun to glare at Jericho. "I'm fine," she repeated, still clutching her neck.

Jericho shrugged and smirked at her. "If you say so."

"Yeah, I do say so," Angel spat, starting to run up he ramp. She wanted to catch Edge and Christian. Maybe they could hang out now the match was over. 

"Edge! Christian! Wait up!" They didn't turn around, unable to hear her over the crowd. No matter. She'd catch them in the hallway. "Edge! Christian!"

But before she could reach them, she was grabbed by strong arms, which were now becoming very familiar.

"Hey," called that soft voice. "I saw what happened out there. Are you okay?"

Angel broke into a flirty smile. "I'm a big girl. I'll survive."

Test nodded approvingly as he placed one hand over hers on her neck and gently slid the other along her cheekbone. "I can't believe those assholes."

"I know," Angel sighed. "Now I have two of them to deal with."

"Hey," Test smiled, drawing her close. "I'll protect you."

"Test, get your damn hands off my valet," Benoit snapped automatically, grabbing for Angel's arm.

Test didn't release her. "Hey, I'm just gonna borrow her. I have a match and I want her to come down for it. Is that allowed?"  
Benoit scowled but nodded. "Bring her back when you're finished."

"Will do, Benoit," Test replied, almost mockingly, before turning back to Angel and rolling his eyes. "Does he ever crack a smile?"  
Angel frowned thoughtfully. "He smirks sometimes."

Test grinned and squeezed her playfully. "What's wrong with him? You always make _me_ smile," he told her, losing himself in her eyes.

"Thanks," Angel smiled back. "So, who's your match against?"

"Hmm?" Test asked, before snapping out of it. "Oh, I don't have one. I just thought you could use a break from that asshole for awhile."

"That's really sweet of you," Angel told him.

"I know," Test shrugged with false modesty, taking her hand and leading her down the hallway.

"Where are we going?" Angel asked, gently swinging his hand.

"I don't know yet. Oh, wait. There's someone I gotta talk to. It'll only take a minute."

"Okay," Angel replied, dropping his hand and preparing to wait for him.

Test frowned. "You think I'm gonna let you wait out here on your own? You never know what jerks and assholes will be walking by. Come on," he encouraged her, putting an arm protectively around her shoulders. "It'll only take a minute, then it'll be just me and you, I swear."

"Okay," Angel smiled, reaching one hand up to link her fingers with his and smoothing the other down his chest as he pushed the door open. Angel froze. There, sitting on the bench in the locker room, was Jeff.

Angel turned to leave, but it was too late. He'd seen her and besides, Test had her too tight.

"Hey Jeff," Test greeted him, slapping Jeff's hand with his free one. "What's up, man?"  
"Hey, Test," Jeff replied quietly, before switching his gaze to Angel. "Angel," he added evenly.

Angel said nothing. This was Test's conversation.

"I just wanted to wish you luck with Hunter tonight," Test went on as Jeff stared at him suspiciously. "But hey, man. Most of all. That little tidbit with Steph? Man, that was sweet! I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to do that myself."

"I'll bet," Jeff replied, eyes downcast. His body was completely tense, but Test didn't seem to notice how uncomfortable he was.

"But anyway, man. I just wanted to wish you luck."

"Thanks," Jeff replied quietly as Test slapped his hand again and then turned to leave.

"Come on," he heard Test whisper to Angel. "Let's go find someplace to hang out. Just you and me."

Jeff slowly shook his head and sighed as he watched them leave. He really had not needed that. Sometimes, when he tried hard enough, he could forget about her for awhile. Like tonight. When he'd showed up, he'd had nothing on his mind but revenge for what had happened on Raw. He'd hit Triple H and Stone Cold with a chair and had then given Stephanie a Twist of Fate. And now, because of that, he had a shot at Hunter's intercontinental title. He was nervous, he was excited. He was ready. And now Test had to show up and kill his focus. Was he for real, bringing Angel in here like that? Hadn't Angel told him what they'd shared? Of course she hadn't. None of that meant anything to her. But it was just like Test to do that kind of thing. Now he didn't have Stephanie, or Trish, or his Euro belt, he'd found another little trophy to show off.

"Just a trophy," Jeff sighed. "But all that's shiny fades, gets tarnished, collects dust. And it doesn't matter how many times you polish it up, it'll never be quite the same."

"That doesn't mean it's not worth winning," a disembodied voice called out as it simultaneously punched him in the stomach with nauseating force.

Jeff took a deep breath. So Test had won her. He was welcome to her. She had a new top on today. A purple tank top. A purple Chris Benoit tank top. But Test didn't seem to be worried about that. Why would he be? He was obviously in love with her. And when you were in love, things like that just didn't matter. At least, they weren't supposed to.

"Aw, come on!" Jeff cried suddenly, slamming his hands onto his head. "Stop it! You got the most important match of your life tonight and you need this, man, you need it! You gotta win it. Win it for Matt and Lita. Angel doesn't matter. Matt and Lita do. Come on, Jeff! Get with it!"

* * * *

"Why'd you take me in there?" Angel demanded as soon as the door closed between herself and Jeff. 

"What?" Test frowned. "I was just wishing the guy luck."

"But…I told you about him and me."

"Yeah," Test nodded. "And you said it was over."

"It is, but…" Angel sighed deeply. "Look, just forget it. It doesn't matter."

Just then, they heard a shout and Rhyno came hurtling towards them. 

Test set himself and at the last second raised his leg to give Rhyno a big boot to the head. Rhyno fell to the ground and backed away.

"I have a match," he muttered. "She's coming to my match."

"The hell she is," Test growled. "Get out of my sight. And if I see you even look at her funny again, you're a dead man. Is that cool with you?"

Rhyno nodded rapidly. "I have a match," he said again, before racing down the hall.

Test clutched at Angel again, hugging her head against his chest. "That'll teach him to mess with you. I don't think he'll try again anytime soon."

"Yeah," Angel murmured. Poor Rhyno. He hadn't deserved that. But it had given her a great chance to see what Test was like in jealous boyfriend mode. Now, if only she could harness that power and unleash it on Benoit. She knew that Benoit at his best could beat Test at his best on any normal day. But put jealousy and protectiveness into the mix and anything was possible. She couldn't stay mad at Test for that encounter with Jeff anymore. She needed him too much.

"Hey, just a minute, okay?" Test asked, stopping them by some stacked trunks. He picked up a copy of WWF Magazine, which was lying on top of the trunks. "You think anyone would mind if I take this?"

Angel looked up and down the hallway but saw no one. "Go ahead."

Test grinned and opened up the magazine – right to the centerfold. 

"Wow!" he cried before he could stop himself. "Your cousin has a great rack! Are they real?"

Angel shifted uncomfortably. "I don't know. I never really…"

"Yeah," Test cut in, slowly turning the magazine so he could see from all angles. "Yeah, I think they're real. Wow!"

Angel sighed deeply and started to walk away. Test caught her arm. "Hey, don't go." She spun back around and he visibly cringed at her expression. "I said something wrong, didn't I?"

Angel sighed. Test was sexy and sweet. Why the hell did he have to be so stupid? "It was bad enough you made me walk in there and see Jeff, now you're asking me about Lita's breasts? I told you me and Lita don't get along anymore."

Test frowned. "I'm sorry. I guess I thought you just said that because you were high. If it makes you feel any better, you have a great rack too." He took a long, undisguised cleavage perve. "Yeah, I think they're better than Lita's. Especially in that top. Hey, you really should do a centerfold for this magazine. I'd buy it. Or hey," he continued, eyes locking on hers at last. "Maybe you could pose just for me some time. I'd definitely be into that."

Angel couldn't help but smile at the intensity of his gaze. "Oh really?" she asked. "Well, you'll have to be really, really nice to me before I'll do that."

Test mirrored her smile and raised a hand to her cheek. "Your wish is my command."

"Test! Glad we caught up with you."  
Angel and Test peered up warily. They were surrounded by Bull Buchanan, the Goodfather and Val Venis.

The one who'd spoken, Bull, went on. "Can we have a couple words with you?"

Test glowered at him and put a protective arm around Angel, who reached for her sticks.

"Test," the Goodfather continued. "We're trying to make a difference, not just in the WWF, but in the world. And that difference starts with us, all of us."

"Well, your hair's pretty different," Angel muttered. "I hope you didn't pay for that 'do."

RTC ignored her and it was Val's turn to speak. "Test, the world in which we live is currently being strangled by the weeds of abomination."

"Like the Kat," Angel said beneath a fake cough. "You slept with her! Slept with her!"

Val didn't seem to notice. "You, Test, can make a change tonight, a change for the better. For yourself, for the world, by joining us," he finished, signaling himself and his RTC brothers.

Angel set her jaw, glared at Val and tightly gripped Test's waist. What was he going to say?

Test widened his eyes. "Really?" he asked, with so much sarcasm Angel just wanted to hug him. "I can join you guys? Oh, man! So I can give up women." He gave Angel's shoulder a squeeze. "I can give up my beliefs and I can dress just like you guys!" By now he was almost laughing and Angel was smirking widely. "Man, that would be sweet! What, are you out of your minds? Get out of here before somebody sees me talkin' to you losers. Come on, Angel. We got somewhere to be."

"Or…" Val snapped, getting right into Test's face. "You can face me tonight and show me how deep your convictions really lie."

Test laughed in his face. "Yeah, whatever. See you tonight." He gripped Angel's shoulder and led her away. "Come on, babe. Looks like I've got a match after all."

Angel turned back to RTC with a smirk on her face. "Catch ya later, boys."

"Can you believe them?" Test cried, releasing her a little and taking her hand again. 

"I know," Angel replied. "They wanted you bad. They seem to have given up on me, though, which is a real shame. Can you imagine me dressing like Ivory?"

Test cringed. "No thanks. You're way too hot to look like that dog."

Angel grinned. Test was so good for her ego. "So, you want me to go back to Benoit and let you get ready?"

"Are you kidding?" Test cried, spinning her around and putting his hands on her shoulders as he stared deep into her eyes. "I want you to see just how deep my convictions really lie."

Angel stared at him dumbly. His gaze was so intense it was making her feel a little dizzy. She grabbed at his arms and broke into a small smile. "I'm there."

* * * *

"The following contest is scheduled for one fall. Making his way to the ring, being accompanied by Angel Torres, weighing in at two hundred and eighty-two pounds, Test!"

Angel and Test walked solemnly down the ramp. They weren't holding hands anymore. Test had a job to do against Angel's oldest enemies and she didn't want to be a distraction. Test climbed into the ring and Angel started to walk towards his corner. He climbed the ropes and signaled the crowd as they cheered and held up their signs. Suddenly he spotted Angel on the ground.

"Hey," he called. "Come on in."

Angel shook her head. "No, it's okay."

"Come on," Test insisted. He climbed to the canvas and leaned far over the ropes, then put his hands around Angel's waist and gently lifted her into the ring.

Angel looked around, somewhat bewildered. She'd spent so much time lately picking on the crowd or completely ignoring them that she'd almost forgotten what it was like to have them on her side. Few things in wrestling were certain, but there was always one constant. Right to Censor were universally hated. 

Hearing the cheers, though quieter than for Benoit and Jericho, Angel started to smile. She hugged Test tightly. "Thank you."

"Hey, that's okay," Test replied, returning her hug.

Just then, they were censored. 

"Making his way to the ring, being accompanied by Right To Censor. He weighs in at two hundred and forty-four pounds, Val Venis!"

Angel and Test spun to face the ramp as Venis, Buchanan, the Goodfather and Steven Richards walked down it. Angel fixed her gaze on Steven and glowered at him. He was the reason for it all. Despite everything that had happened, she hadn't lost sight of her goal, and there he was.

"We meet again," she scowled as she felt Test's body behind hers and he slowly slid his arms around her chest, protecting her from Steven, and herself. She reached for his arms and tugged on them so they were now covering her breasts.

Val Venis was outraged. "Get your hands away from that woman's bosom, you depraved heathen! She is nothing but the spawn of evil and she will corrupt your soul!"

Test gave an amused grin and slid his arms even lower so they were now around Angel's waist. "Yeah? Well, maybe that's why I like her."

Val climbed the steps as Angel grabbed Test's hands and forced his arms apart. She turned to give him a quick peck on the cheek. "See you later," she smiled.

Test nodded, focusing on Val. "Watch me deal with this loser."

Angel jumped to the ground and spun around, just in time to see Val run at Test, only to be stopped by a kick to the midsection. She tried to watch the action as Test took the early advantage, but the three men across the ring from her were distracting. She'd forgotten how RTC fought – always attacking like a pack of wolves whenever they got a chance. They preached an end to violence and yet destroyed opponents before they even got the chance to fight back. She frowned at Test as he went for and missed the big boot. He might be in trouble. 

Just then, Test went for momentum off the ropes, but the Goodfather grabbed his leg and tripped him as Val kept the ref busy. Test turned around and grabbed Goodfather by the neck, but Val slammed into his back and forced him to let go. Val dropped him to the canvas and he grabbed at the ropes but, despite the ref's admonishments, Val kept attacking, then lured the ref to the other side of the ring as his comrades continued the assault. 

"Come on, ref!" Angel screamed. "They're attacking him!"

The ref finally turned around, but RTC were already out of the way, as if they'd never been there at all. 

Angel scowled as Val picked up from where he'd left off, grabbing Test by the hair and slamming his face into the top turnbuckle.

"Come on, Test!"

A knife-edge chop, two punches, several kicks and a boot to the throat left Test slumped in the corner as Richards encouraged every brutal shot.

"Go Test!" Angel cried. "Come on, baby! Get up!"

Val grabbed his hair again, dragged him away from the corner and sent him for a belly to belly suplex, made extra brutal by the fact that Test was so damn big. Next, Val pinned both of Test's arms in a submission hold and jerked his head back as Test cried out in pain.

"You had enough?" the referee asked as Test groaned and shook his head. "You want me to end it?"

Test kept shaking his head, but the pain in his neck made it difficult to think. "No."

Angel leaned worriedly over the apron. "Come on, Test," she said despairingly.

Val dropped Test and got in the ref's face about not ending the match.

"Hey, I asked him and he said no," the ref replied.

Val scowled, grabbed Test and powerslammed him, and then went for a kneedrop off the ropes, before making a cover.

"Come on, Test! Yeah!" Angel applauded as he kicked out on one.

Val whipped Test, but it was reversed into another whip as Test waited in the middle for the back body drop. But he'd telegraphed it and Val kicked him in the head, then went for more momentum off the ropes. Test simply caught him and sent him for a tilt-a-whirl slam.

"Oh my God!" Angel screamed. "I've never seen him do that to someone who wasn't puny like Eddie!"

Test made the cover, but Val kicked out on two. But Test had the upper hand again and finally hit the back body drop he'd been searching for.

"Yes!" Angel cried. "Come on, baby!"

Test beckoned for Val to stand as Val cried, "no, no, no!" But just as he reached for Val's head, Val raised his arms and lifted Test from the ring.

"No!" Angel cried as RTC pounced and Val again kept the ref busy. Bull Buchanan hit a bicycle kick and Goodfather picked up Val and threw him back into the ring.

Val turned and made a cover.

"One!" shouted the ref. "Two!" Somehow Test raised his shoulder.

"Yeah Test!" Angel cried. "Come on!"  
Just then, she heard a voice. 

"Look at you, vile daughter of Jezebel. You wretched harlot, soliciting yourself upon the depths of mankind."

Angel stared at the Goodfather as he continued his tirade.

"If only you'd put away your sheltered existence, leave behind your wanton ways."

Angel cocked her head, wondering whether he knew that she and Test hadn't even really kissed yet, let alone engaged in something 'wanton'. From the look on his face, he probably didn't care. She turned to run, but almost ran straight into Bull Buchanan. Goodfather to her right, Bull to her left. She was trapped and in big, big trouble. She reached warily for her sticks and faced the ring so she could keep an eye on both of them. And then, just as they were about to attack, she ducked and dove quickly under the ring. Neither Bull nor Goodfather was small or agile enough to follow her so, at least for the moment, she was safe. She curled up amongst the hardcore props as the ring bounced over her head, and tried to get her bearings. If she went back, Goodfather would get her and if she went left she'd meet with Bull. If she kept going straight she'd get Richards, which left her only one option. The right. The ramp. But that would mean leaving Test alone to face the wolves. By the sound of the commotion above her, Test was in trouble. She felt sure she could hear more than three sets of feet.

"Go for the ramp," she decided. "Then help Test." She began to crawl. 

Just as she reached the edge, she heard the ring bell and "Test, Test, this is a Test." What the? Test had won? She raised the cover and when her eyes fell on a set of black-clad legs her heart almost skipped a beat. But these legs were clad in shiny black, not slacks. Relieved, Angel burst from the ring, still clutching a trashcan lid.

Test heard her and spun furiously, but noticed it was her and put an arm around her instead. "Hey there."

"Hi," she smiled as she spotted someone moving up the ramp. "Raven?"

Raven stopped and turned back.

Angel met him with a warm smile. She held up the trashcan lid. "Here. You want this?"

Raven nodded and she tossed it to him. "Thanks."

"No problem," Angel grinned. 

"Hey, I won," Test announced, squeezing her a little to get the attention back to him.

"Yeah, I heard," Angel smiled, wrapping her arm around his waist and starting up the ramp with him.

"We should celebrate," Test suggested.

"Definitely."

Suddenly, she realized the crowd were cheering far too loudly for a match which was well over.

"Just a sec," she told Test, slipping from his grasp and turning back to the ring. Her jaw dropped down around her ankles. She could not believe her eyes. Right To Censor were fighting amongst themselves! Bull was attacking Steven as Val pounded the Goodfather.

"Oh my God!" Angel cried joyfully. "Hey, you guys! Test, Raven, check this out!"

They both turned back and froze in surprise.

"Well, well," Test grinned. "Would you look at that."

Raven's response was a little more poetic. "And like the griffin rising from the ashes, the Raven ascends above the depths of despair and flees the bowels of persecution. Solidarity, individuality maintained."

Angel just gave a little laugh and put one arm around each of them, marching them up the ramp as more officials arrived to break up the fight. The three of them walked slowly up the hallway as Right To Censor caught up, still screaming at each other, still trying to throw punches at each other as the officials struggled desperately to keep them apart. Angel, Test and Raven stepped out the way and shouted encouragement and insults as they passed by.

Angel shook her head in amazement. "You guys, I can hardly believe it," she murmured, voice filled with awe. "But I think you just brought an end to censorship!" She broke into a broad, crazy grin. "Raven!" she cried, throwing her arms around him in a huge hug, before breaking away and turning to Test. "Test!"

Test smiled and spread his arms, ready to return her hug, but she leaped at him, grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him instead. Test was surprised but he soon got into it, sliding one hand down Angel's back towards her pants and bringing the other one up behind her head. The kiss was urgent, intense, passionate and across the hall, Raven looked on with a frown on his face. Inside his mind he began to compose some sort of prosodic soliloquy about fate and destiny and the inability of man to wrench asunder their grip upon humanity, but what he said out loud was, "Aw, I didn't really want her anyway." Then he walked away.

Test and Angel didn't notice. They were too wrapped up in each other, figuratively and literally. Test's back was against the wall and had been since Angel had jumped on him. Angel was on tiptoe as Test's strong arms helped to hold her up and they kissed hungrily, desperately, completely lost in the moment, in the enormity of what Test and Raven had just caused. 

Finally, they came up for air and Angel stepped back on her heels, still holding Test and gazing at him dreamily. 

Something, or rather someone, over Angel's head caught Test's eye.

"Hey Jeff! You heading out there? Good luck, man!"

Jeff raised a hand in recognition, but he didn't turn around.

At the sound of Jeff's name, Angel froze. She looked up at Test warily. "Do you think Jeff saw us?"

Test laughed away her concerns. "Probably," he said with an ironic grin. "Does it matter?"

Test's smile was infectious. "I guess not," Angel replied, pulling him down for another kiss.

* * * *

"You are one hot chick, you know that?" Test asked in between kisses. They'd found their way to the empty Right To Censor locker room and had been making out on the couch ever since. Their kisses were long and deep as they explored each other's mouths and bodies. Test was a good kisser, possibly as good as Jeff. His hands weren't quite as soft, but they were talented. He knew exactly what he was doing and he did it well. 

"You're pretty hot yourself," Angel breathed into his mouth before nibbling on his bottom lip. Test groaned quietly and shifted his body, covering her mouth with his own. He was trying to feel her up, but she didn't stop him, figuring she already had a head start, him with his shirt off and all. Her own hands slid down over his pants. He did have a pretty fine ass. But they both knew they weren't going to go too much further, at least not right now. They were on a couch in an open locker room in the sold out First Union Center of Philadelphia. Anyone could walk in. And just then, anyone did. Two anyones.

Jericho caught Test and dragged him off the couch as Benoit grabbed Angel and wrenched her to her feet.

"Hey!" Test cried furiously, shrugging off Jericho. "What's your problem, man?"

"I told you to bring her back when you were finished," Benoit snapped.

"Well, I'm not _finished_, am I?" Test scowled.

Benoit pinned a struggling Angel's arms and followed Jericho to the door.

"God, Benoit, you're such a dick!" Test cried.

Benoit stopped and spun back around. "When she's your manager, you can tell her what to do," he said coolly, before turning again.

"You know what?" Test called after him. "Maybe she _will_ be my manager. That's a damn great idea!"

*********************************************************

A/N: Huge shout out to Femalephenom, who read up to the end of the previous chapter in one sitting. Yikes, I'm not sure I even want to KNOW how long that took. Cheers to all readers! J 


	39. Final Destination

Title: Final Destination

Rating: PG-13 for adult themes, language

Spoilers: very minor for Wrestlemania X-7

Disclaimer: Aside from the title, which is a blatant movie title rip-off for a movie I don't own and have never seen, all characters in this except Angel, the airport receptionist chick and Darren/Darrell are owned by the WWF/E

Summary: Alone in an airport on Good Friday, Angel needs a place to go.

A/N: I just can't believe how nice all you guys are being to me (even though this ISN'T a Hardyz fic, lol). When I started posting I didn't even expect anyone to read it, but to have all you guys continually reviewing every day is just the most awesome thing. Thank you so much!!!!

A/N 2 - No wrestling in this one and no Team eXtreme either, but there is the debut (in this story, at least) of one of the most popular divas! Read on to find out who.

GOOD FRIDAY, APRIL 13TH, 2001

"Next, please."

Test and Angel didn't hear. They were locked together in a passionate and very public kiss. 

"Sir, ma'am, may I help you?"

Finally, they broke apart.

"Sorry," Test said sheepishly, stepping up to the counter and handing his ticket to the receptionist, who ran it through the computer and printed the boarding pass.

"Do you have any bags to check?"

Test nodded and lifted his suitcases onto the scales with far greater ease than he could have if he was a normal person.

"Here is your boarding pass, and I hope you enjoy your flight," the receptionist smiled mechanically.

"Hey Angel," Test called over his shoulder. "I know you're not flying for a while, but do you want to check your cases in now anyway?"

Angel froze and thought quickly. "No, I'm um…I'm not flying with this airline," she stage-whispered, knowing both Test and the receptionist could hear her.

"Oh, okay," Test nodded and turned back to the desk. "Thanks." He stepped over to Angel and picked up her cases as though they weighed nothing. Angel lifted her gym bag to her shoulder and slipped her arm through his.

"So, you're going home to do the whole family thing?" she asked.

"Yeah," Test nodded. "Seeing the parents, the siblings, the pets. Should be good."

"Yeah, it sounds good," Angel smiled, feeling her heart tug a little for her own family. She regretted the fact that she couldn't go back to Australia and see them, but three days just wasn't enough time. She'd have to be contented with a phone call…from wherever she found herself on Saturday night.

"How about you?" Test asked.

"Yeah," Angel replied. "I mean, I'm doing the whole aunts, uncles and cousins thing." She lied smoothly. After all, that was where everyone expected her to go. Only Benoit knew better, and he didn't care.

"Well, it's good to get away for awhile anyway," Test shrugged.

"It sure is," Angel smiled, her good humor restored. No Benoit for three whole days. Even if she ended up alone, this was absolute heaven.

Angel and Test made more small talk and just enjoyed each other's company as they made their way to Test's gate, then sat down to wait for his flight to be called.

The airport was crowded – it _was_ Good Friday, after all – but that didn't stop Angel from spotting two people she knew, right near where she and Test were sitting. 

"Edge! Christian!" she shouted, standing on her seat so they could see her.

They didn't seem to hear. Christian was saying something to Edge, who grinned that perfect grin.

"Edge! Christian!" she screamed again. People were staring now, but she didn't care as she waved her arms frantically to get their attention. Still they didn't notice.

"Hey Angel," Test said, tugging at her arm. "Sit down. You're making a scene."

"Yeah, just a minute," Angel dismissed him. "Edge! Christian!"

"You shouldn't call wrestler's names in a crowded airport," Test informed her, but he should have saved his breath. She wasn't listening.

"Edge! Christian! Over here!"  
Finally, they both stopped talking and turned towards Angel. They were wearing shades, but it definitely seemed like they were staring straight at her. Finally, they'd heard her. But just then, Edge said something to Christian. He nodded and they walked away. Angel jumped to the ground and started to run after them, but Test caught her by the waist and pulled her onto his lap.

"Where you going?" he teased. "I might only have a few minutes with you and you're skipping out on me?"  
"I know," Angel sighed. "But I wanted to talk to them. I guess they didn't see me."

"Look, Angel," Test started, wrapping his arms around her and staring deep into her eyes. "Forget about those jerks. It's bad enough I have to share a hometown with them, I don't need them making you all upset too. You don't need them anyway. You've got _me_ now."

Angel was about to argue, but then swallowed her words. Deal with Test now. There would be plenty of time to hang out with Edge and Christian once she was free. So she smiled at Test and relaxed into his embrace.

"I'm pretty lucky, aren't I?"

Test nodded dreamily. "That makes two of us."

He brought his lips down on hers as she closed her eyes and looped her arms around his neck. No, getting Test to fight Benoit was definitely not going to be a chore. Finally, work was meeting pleasure and Angel didn't mind one little bit.

* * * *

Angel sat on her cases, staring numbly at the destination board. So many places, but where to go? She'd seen Test onto his plane (after another fruitless attempt at getting Edge and Christian to notice her), and now, almost two hours later, she was still sitting and trying to figure out where to go.

"Somewhere warm," she decided, snuggling into her winter coat. She'd had about all she could take of these messed-up seasons, having spent all her years in either Florida or Australia. But Florida, or at least Fort Lauderdale, was out.

Miami? No, too dangerous. Tallahassee? Get real. Key West? No, I get enough of that with Benoit and Jericho. She smiled to herself. Too bad they weren't around to hear that slam. Maybe Orlando? No, forget Florida. If she had to spend Easter alone, she was going someplace different. Someplace she hadn't already visited a thousand times. Her eyes fell on a destination. New Orleans. That would have been fun a few weeks ago for Mardi Gras. Now it would be just like Angel herself. Tired, lonely and depressed. Vacant of all life and celebration. 

"Could be just what the doctor ordered," Angel decided, picking up the guidebook she'd bought after leaving Test and rummaging through it.

"New Orleans, Louisiana. New Orleans loves to party," Angel read. "From late February there is no escaping…"

"Hey there! You're Jeff Hardy's girlfriend, right?"  
Positive she was just hearing the products of her warped mind, Angel didn't look up, instead concentrating on the sights and sounds "N'Awlins" had to offer. She'd been there once, in January, Royal Rumble time, but that had been just after the ringbell to the head, and she really hadn't been in a sightseeing mood. Faced with the decision now, it seemed as good a place as ever.

"I said hello! God, how rude are you?"

Angel peered up absently and discovered that, indeed, someone was talking to her. Just in front of her, a blonde woman stood with her hands on her hips and an indignant expression on her face. She was definitely not dressed for flying, in knee-high boots, a short teal skirt and matching cowboy hat, a black top (very low cut, of course) and a long black leather coat.

"Sorry," Angel said sheepishly. "I was miles away. Lost in the wonders of the French Quarter."

"Oh, you're French?" the woman cried. She excitedly extended her manicured hand. "_Je'mapelle_ Trish."

Angel stared at her, dumbfounded, then tentatively shook her hand. "I don't speak French. I was just thinking about visiting New Orleans."

"Oh!" Trish broke into a grin and shrugged. "What I said was 'my name's Trish'. I'm sorry, I don't know your name. I've only ever known you as Jeff Hardy's little girlfriend."  
Angel frowned at that little piece of information. "I'm Angel," she replied. "And I'm not."  
"Not?" Trish creased her brow and pouted slightly. 

"Not Jeff's girlfriend," Angel explained.

"Oh." Trish's frown deepened. "Are you sure?"

Angel gave an ironic smile. "Yeah. I think I'd know."  
"Yeah, of course," Trish nodded. "It's just…that's what Vince…I mean, Mr. McMahon, always used to call you. Because, you know, I usually don't care much about what other people are doing, but Vince, it's his empire. He has to know what's going on and who people are. He's always watching the shows and that's when I saw you the first time. You have to worry about new people, you know, because you never know who's gonna try and take your place. So when I saw you, I was like, 'who's she?' because you're pretty and all, in that tomboyish hardcore chick way some guys are into. And Vince was like, 'oh, that's Jeff Hardy's little girlfriend'. So I was like, 'Okay, that's good. No competition'. No offence, that's just what I thought. " She finally stopped to take a breath and give Angel a winning smile.

"Well, I'm not Jeff's girlfriend," Angel said, while she could get a word in. "Not anymore, if that's ever what I was."

"Oh, I get it," Trish said, flipping her hair. "So, where are you headed?"  
Angel frowned at her. For all Trish's talking she'd forgotten they were in an airport. "I don't know yet." She shrugged indifferently. "But I'm thinking New Orleans."

Trish's face fell. "You're not going to see your family?"

"No," Angel shook her head. "There's not enough time to get to and from Australia by Monday."

"Oh, you're Australian!" Trish cried. "I mean, I knew you talked funny. Wow, that is so cool!"  
"Thanks," Angel said evenly.

"But you can't go home for Easter?" Trish frowned. "That's awful! What are you going to do?"  
Angel frowned, deciding Trish sounded far too concerned for someone she'd just met. "I just thought I'd take a vacation."

"On your own?"  
"Well, yeah."

"No, you can't do that!" Trish cried. "That's just _awful_."

"Well," Angel shrugged. "I don't have much of a choice."

"I know!" Trish announced, her face bursting to life. "Have you bought your ticket yet?"

Angel shook her head. 

"Great! Then you can come home with me!"

Angel frowned at her. Was she for real? "No, it's okay. I enjoy my own company. Really."  
"You do?" Trish asked. "How?" she rushed on, with no clue she was being rude. "Come on. Yo have nowhere to go and I heard it's just not safe for a woman to travel alone. Especially a pretty woman like me or you."  
Angel was still staring at her skeptically. 

"Come on!" Trish insisted. "My family will love you. They always liked having those foreign exchange students over for dinner or whatever. It'll be great!"  
Angel gave a small smile. Trish actually reminded her a lot of the Kat, which was the last thing she would have expected. "Where do you live, Trish?"  
"Toronto. Go Maple Leafs!" she grinned with cheerleader perkiness.

"Toronto?" Angel repeated.

"Well, you didn't think I was American, did you?" Trish asked with false hurt.

Angel shook her head. "It's just that everyone who was going to Toronto has already left."

"I know," Trish shrugged. "I was still getting ready so I missed the flight. Don't worry, I'll get us on the next one. You _are_ coming with me, right?"  
"I don't know, Trish," Angel sighed. "I kind of have my heart set on New Orleans."

"You'll have way more fun with me than down there!" Trish cried. "We'll check out the clubs, we'll go shopping. I'll show you everything there is to see. I'll be like your foster family for the weekend."

Angel smiled at her. Despite what everyone in the locker room said about Trish, that actually did sound like fun. Better than slumming in a New Orleans youth hostel, anyway.

"Okay, Trish. You're on."  
"Great!" Trish applauded. Let's go get our tickets." She turned and spoke to a guy Angel hadn't even seen standing behind her. "Darren, could you be a dear and take my friend's bags, too? Thank you so much."

The poor guy loaded himself up with both Trish and Angel's bags as they headed towards the check-in desk.

"Trish," Angel started. "Who is that guy?"  
"I have no idea," Trish shrugged cheerfully. "He asked if he could carry my bags and he just looked so darn hopeful I just had to let him."

Angel shook her head in amazement. Incredible. But she hadn't seen the last of Trish's persuasive powers.

"Okay, Angel," she said as the reached the front of the line. "I don't know how much it costs, so just give me a hundred dollars and I'll do the rest."

Angel frowned. Was Trish just going to take her money and run?

'Are you kidding?' she asked herself. 'Trish's _foundation_ probably cost that much. If she's going to rip you off, she'll take you for more than that. Like poor old Darren over there, who Angel had found out was actually called Darrell. He'd already paid for Trish's lunch and was still following her around like a lovesick puppy.

"Trish, I can't let you pay for my ticket."

Trish simply gave her an 'are you crazy?' look. "Just trust me, okay?"  
Angel shrugged and handed over the money and in a few minutes, Trish was back.

"Voila!" she cried, handing over Angel's boarding pass with a triumphant expression. "They were kind of just an eensy bit booked out, but don't worry. We got seats."

Angel frowned at the boarding pass. It seemed legitimate; it had her name printed on it and everything. There was just one thing wrong. It was a first class seat.

"Trish, how much did this cost?"  
Trish gave her a secretive smile. "A hundred dollars."

Angel shook her head in disbelief. She was about to ask how Trish had done that, but seeing Darrell trailing behind them, burdened under the weight of a zillion cases, she decided maybe it was best not to ask. She was pretty sure she didn't want to know.

* * * *

Angel relaxed into her chair.

"Ah, this is the life," she smiled.

"I know," Trish grinned. "I never fly anything else. Of course, even this is a step down from Vince's private jet, but it's okay. It was worth it. My parents always told me, 'Trish, always make sure you do what feels right in your heart'. So I did and I didn't even get fired, so it all turned out for the best."

Angel smiled at her. Anyone who had the guts to slap Vince McMahon in the face on the biggest night of the sports entertainment year had to be worth getting to know. Of course, Trish was doing most of the talking. Angel couldn't shut her up. But she discovered she didn't mind. Trish's endless gossip was a welcome relief after Benoit's usual monosyllabic exchanges.

"He really likes you, you know," Trish went on. "As much as he likes anyone."

"Who?" Angel asked, realizing she hadn't been paying attention.

"Vince McMahon. I mean, he didn't at first, but he was so impressed when you got that little petition thing signed. He didn't think you could do it, so then when you did he really changed his tune. He said to me 'Jeff Hardy's little girlfriend sure is sharp. She's going places, Trish. She's going to be one hell of a manager some day'."

Angel raised her eyebrows. How ironic was that?

"Funny you should say that," she replied, figuring a gossip queen like Trish should be brought up to speed. "I'm managing now."

"Really? Who?" Trish asked, fascinated.

"Chris Benoit." His name still left a bitter taste in her mouth. 

"Really?" Trish said again. "Well, way to go. He might not have been my choice but he does have…" She searched hard for a compliment. "A great body. Of yeah! A fantastic body. And he's the strong, silent type, which is never a bad thing. I always like my men to shut up. Sometimes they just talk and talk, you just want to grab them and go…"

"Wait a minute," Angel cut in, her face the picture of disgust. "I'm not sleeping with him."

"You're not?" Trish frowned. "But you said you're his manager."  
"I am," Angel said through clenched teeth. "It's a business relationship."  
"I get it," Trish grinned. "A 'business relationship'. Like he's the suit and you're the secretary."

"No, I don't think you _do_ get it," Angel scowled, giving Trish the deadliest of glares. "I am _not _sleeping with Chris Benoit."

"Okay," Trish cringed, backing away a little. "We won't talk about that anymore."

"Good," Angel fumed.

"So, who are you sleeping with, then?" Trish asked, perkiness restored. "I mean, are you seeing anyone? Not Jeff, not Chris, but someone?"  
Angel allowed herself a small smile as she thought of Test. "Yeah, I am." Suddenly she realized just who she was talking to and the relationship she'd formerly had with Test. She knew Trish's next question was going to be who was Angel's mystery lover and that really wasn't a skeleton she wanted to set free. Not until the return trip, anyway. "Well, sort of," she covered.

"Sort of?" Trish repeated, brows knitted with intrigue. "Who is it?"  
'Great work, Angel,' she chided herself. "Oh, it's really new, and I kind of don't want to jinx it," she explained and it was sort of true. 

Trish smiled at her and she knew she was safe, at least for now. "That's okay, I understand. So, who was your first?"  
Angel laughed, her first natural laugh for some time. "That's going a bit far into the past, isn't it?"

"No, I mean your first _wrestler_." Trish raised her eyebrows suggestively.

"Oh," Angel said, going a little pale. "Um, no one. Not yet, anyway."

Trish frowned. "Not even Jeff?"  
Angel shook her head. "No. We never got that far."

"You mean to tell me you've been here…how long?"  
Angel counted silently. "Three months."

"Three months," Trish repeated. "And you've been completely celibate?"

"Well, not completely," Angel grinned. "Tim…my then-boyfriend, visited from Australia for a week."

"Okay then," Trish nodded. "So you're not a nun."

"A nun!" Angel laughed, suddenly finding herself in a good mood. "Do I _look_ like one?"  
"No," Trish replied. "But Ivory, on the other hand…"

Angel laughed, having been thinking exactly the same thing. "Right with you, Trish."

Trish grinned at her. "Wanna know who my first wrestler was?"

Angel thought about it, positive she was about to enter too much information land, but discovering she actually wanted to know. "Sure."

"Albert," Trish replied instantly.

"Albert?" Angel cried. "I don't see him as your type."  
"I like them burly," Trish informed her. "And besides, I have two words for you. Tongue ring."

Angel giggled like a schoolgirl. Girl talk was so therapeutic. For a moment she felt a pang for Lita, her cousin, but she shrugged it off. That was the past now.

"You know who thinks he's good but he's really not?" Trish asked suddenly.   
"Vince McMahon?" Angel guessed.

Trish frowned. "Watch out. Talk like that can get you fired," she warned.

"Not me," Angel shrugged. "Benoit owns me, not Vince."

"Still, if Vince wanted you gone…" Trish continued, before returning to the topic. "I was actually talking about Val Venis."

"Really?" Angel laughed. "Hey, he joined RTC just after you were his manager, right? What did you do, tell him or something?"

"Angel," Trish scolded. "Do you really think I'd be that cruel? That would destroy a man!"

They laughed together for awhile. Angel was already glad she'd decided to join Trish for the weekend.

"You know who's real good, though?" Trish asked.

"Vince McMahon?" Angel guessed again.

Trish shook her head and laughed. "You've gotta stop doing that."

Angel grinned at her. "Sorry. Who?"

"Test."

Angel nearly choked on her scotch on the rocks. If Benoit had seen her drinking that, he would have had an aneurysm…just like Angel right now.

"Did you say Test?" she spluttered.

"I know, it's weird," Trish said reflectively. "He doesn't seem to be anything special, but he does this thing with his tongue that just makes you…" She caught sight of Angel's stricken face and cut off. "Sorry. You probably don't want to hear that, do you?"  
"It's okay," Angel breathed. Maybe Test wasn't just a good kisser…

"Okay," Trish said slowly. "So maybe you haven't had sex with any wrestlers yet. Although I do recommend it. Great bodies, incredible endurance. Anyway, I was saying…oh yeah. You must have kissed some of them surely?"

Angel nodded.

"Okay." Trish smiled. "Who was your first wrestler kiss?"  
Angel laughed out loud as she remembered. "Dean Malenko."

"What?" Trish cried. "Malenko? Why? I mean, even I…" She just left that one to hang.

"There's an explanation," Angel laughed. "He wouldn't get off Lita, so I did the first thing I thought of. And then I got the pleasure of his tongue down my throat."

"Ugh." Trish made a face. "But we've all done that. It doesn't count. Who was the first wrestler you kissed and meant it?"

Angel paused and searched for the truth. "Jeff," she said at last, her voice catching a little in her throat. She scowled at herself and regained her composure. "It was Jeff," she finished, voice back to its normal indifference.

"Oh really?" Trish frowned sympathetically. "What happened between you two?"

Angel lowered her gaze. "If you don't mind, I'd rather not talk about it."

'And I don't need your pity,' she added in her mind.

"Okay, sorry," Trish replied. "I do know how that is, though. When you find yourself on a different team to someone you love. And you know there's nothing you can do about it because nothing can fix it. Nothing can bridge that gap. You just have to move on and hope you can find someone else, because all those stupid love songs are full of crap. Love _can't_ always carry you through."

Angel glared at her defensively. "I'm not in love with Jeff."

'No?' asked her conscience. 'Then why does it hurt so much every time you hear his name?'

'That doesn't mean anything,' another part of her argued. 'It hurts when you hear Lita's name and she's just your cousin…and you're not a Holly.'

Trish didn't seem to notice her inner turmoil. She had some of her own.

"I was," she said quietly.

Angel spun accusingly before she could stop herself.

"Not Jeff, I mean," Trish went on, a far away look in her eyes. "That guy I was talking about. He didn't think I loved him, but I did. I really did. I still do, actually. I probably always will. But it doesn't matter. We just weren't meant to be. He probably doesn't even think of me at all." She shrugged and tried to smile.

Now Angel was the one giving sympathy. "Oh Trish. Who was it?"  
Trish gave her a little frown. "I can't tell you. I really shouldn't have brought it up at all. I'm still trying to get over it. Still…" She sighed.

"Come on, Trish. You can't tell me a tragic story like that and then leave me in suspense."

"Okay, I'll tell you," Trish nodded. "If you tell me who your mystery man is."

"That's not going to be happening," Angel blurted.

"Oh well," Trish shrugged. "I guess we'll both never know."

Angel stared at her like a child whose favorite toy is frustratingly just out of reach. "Don't leave me hanging. At least tell me how much he weighs."

Trish frowned at her. "You're probably one of those people who knows all the wrestlers by their weights, aren't you?"  
"No," Angel lied.

"Okay," Trish grinned. "He's about three hundred. Told you I like them burly."

"Three hundred, huh?" Angel mused, knowing Trish would tell her if she pressed hard enough. "Is it Bull Buchanan?"  
"No!" Trish cried.

"Kane?"

"Guess again."  
"The Rock?"

"Nope."

"Undertaker?"  
"You know," Trish told her. "Even if you guess right, I'll still say no."

"Maybe," Angel agreed. "But your voice will change, so I'll be able to tell."

"Never!" Trish cried. "I'm a great actress."

They both giggled and Angel guessed some more names.

"The Goodfather?"

"No."

"Haku?"

"Ha! No."

"It's Haku, isn't it?" Angel teased, knowing it wasn't. She and Trish laughed together as Angel kept guessing and Trish kept negating the guesses. Angel knew they were acting like a couple of fifteen-year-olds, but she didn't care. She was feeling an emotion that was all too foreign to her. Happiness.


	40. The New T & A

Title: The New T & A

Rating: PG-13 for language, violence, angst and adult themes

Spoilers: For the date given

Summary: Angel's got Test right where she wants him, but what about a certain young man from North Carolina?

A/N: Well, apparently ff.net is down today so I'll probably post this as a double-header tomorrow. Just so you know, this contains some more slashy remarks from Angel about Benoit and Jericho, probably the most I ever wrote. I couldn't help it, Benoit is just not a purple tights kinda guy! As always, read the matches or don't. I personally like them because it's the wrestling that makes me watch the WWE, night after night, not all the pretty, half-naked men (believe it or not) ;-P Personally, I'm fascinated by the matches - the technicalities of the moves and how, if you do them right, they can tell a story just as well as a whole load of dialogue. 

A/N2 - Yay, ff.net's back up again so I can post today! Also, I just discovered this story has now passed 50 reviews. Thanks so much, everyone, I really appreciate all the feedback and you're always so nice to me!!! As for Trish's mystery man, I just realized I never actually *say* who it is, although of course I know…hmmm…and if I do reveal it, it won't be for awhile…I guess you better all just forget that little storyline so I can spring it on you again when you least expect it. Lol. Feel free to guess, though, I'm actually interested in seeing how obvious I am ;-P

RAW IS WAR, APRIL 16TH, 2001

Angel flipped through her guidebook, turning to Tennessee as the airplane coasted through the air and she relaxed into her first class seat.

"I could definitely get used to this," she decided.

Sure enough, Trish had come through with another hundred-dollar first class set, even though she herself wasn't on the flight. While Angel was returning to the WWF tour at University of Tennessee, Trish had some promotional work to do at WWF New York. So they'd parted at the airport in Toronto, new but already firm friends.

Angel smiled to herself as she remembered the weekend. It had been an absolute blast. Trish's family had been so sweet to her and they were obviously very proud of Trish. Trish had also taken Angel under her wing, treating her like a sister. Angel kept waiting for it to end, for them all to bring her down in some devastating scheme, but it hadn't happened.

Easter Sunday itself had been unbeatable. Angel had eaten so much she'd probably gained about five pounds, but she didn't care and neither did Trish's family.

"Eat up, honey," Trish's dad had said. "Men like a woman with a hearty appetite."

And she hadn't disappointed him, finding that, once withdrawn from Benoit's force-feeding schedule, she was hungry every few hours. Just another way Benoit had ruined her life. But Trish's mother was always ready with the baked goods, so Angel was always satiated. She even had a secret batch of chocolate chip cookies hidden in a tin in her suitcase. She was tempted to eat one in front of Benoit, just to see what he'd do, but then he might take them away from her and they were chocolate. Chocolate!

Angel frowned at her thoughts.

'Girl, you _gotta_ get out more.'

She decided to take that advice and stretch her legs. Deep vein thrombosis was something she really didn't need. 

The plane was just an average sized domestic plane with a single aisle and a simple curtain separating the first and coach classes, not like those huge 747s, where first class lives it up near the pilot while the lesser mortals slum it downstairs.

Angel walked slowly down the aisle, through coach class, not to rub it in that she had a better seat than they did, she simply wanted a longer walk. She slipped past the flight attendants without them calling her on it. Apparently first class and coach class weren't even supposed to share a bathroom. When she got to the back of the plane she discovered why. Occupied and occupied.

"I bet they're not occupied in first class," she muttered, thinking that the two Cokes she'd had were possibly not a great idea.

"Oh, come on!" she cried, starting to hop from leg to leg. "Come on!"

Eventually the lock clicked open.

"Finally!" Angel cried the moment the door moved. "Outta my way!" She pushed past the tall toilet hog.

"Angel?" He grabbed her arm.

"Argh!" she cried in surprise. "Two minutes!" She leaped into the bathroom and threw the door closed.

Two minutes later, when she emerged, he was waiting for her. She broke into a broad smile and held her hands up.

"Washed my hands."

He smiled back. 

"Sweet," he nodded, bringing his mouth down towards hers.

Angel looped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.

When they broke away, Angel kept her hands on his face and stared deep into his eyes. "I missed that face."

He broke into a dreamy grin. "Can I ask you something?"

Angel nodded slowly.

"What the heck are you doing here?"

Angel gave a little laugh and started to reply, but she was interrupted by an insistent voice.

"Sir, ma'am, can I ask you to please return to your seats?"

"What, all the way back in first class?" Angel moaned.

The flight attendant looked surprised. "I'm sorry, if you'll both return to first class, we will allow you your privacy."

"Sweet!" Test cried. "I get to go to first class too?"  
Angel felt like elbowing him in the ribs. If only he hadn't opened his mouth.

Now the flight attendant was really confused. "Sir, where is your seat?"  
"Right there," Test frowned, pointing it out.

Not the flight attendant turned to Angel. "And you know this man?"

Angel thought fast. "I ought to. He _is_ my husband." She grabbed Test's face again and planted one on him before he could open his mouth and blow their cover.

The flight attendant said it for him. "Husband?"

Angel nodded confidently. "This man is so romantic. We eloped to Vegas last week, then we've just been to visit his family in Toronto and now we're headed home. We would have stayed longer, but I'm a student at University of Tennessee and I've got a big test coming up. Thermonuclear physics can be a real drag. Our real honeymoon will have to wait until summer, right, baby?"

Test just nodded dumbly as Angel stared at him adoringly, then turned abruptly back to the flight attendant.

"Do you know how long he will have to work to pay off our trip?" she cried, reaching back to pull Test's arms around her shoulders. "First class all the way. He spoils me, he really does."

The flight attendant looked absolutely bewildered, but she was determined to sort this out. "But, he's not traveling first class!"

"No, not anymore," Angel frowned at last. "When we went to collect our boarding passes, they told us that first class was full and one of us would have to fly coach instead. Of course, my baby sacrificed his seat for me. Nothing's too good for his little Angel, isn't that right, sugar muffin?"

Test, who was finally catching on, broke into a smile. "You bet, babe," he enthused, leaning down to kiss her hair.

Angel turned her triumphant grin to the flight attendant. "Of course, they refunded the difference. That was the least they could do. I mean, we're not millionaires, we're simply two normal people in love with each other, wanting the best in life."

The flight attendant looked fit to burst, so burst she did. "But we're full in coach! There are at least three vacant first class seats!"

Angel frowned. "I _thought_ it was strange when no one sat next to me, but I guessed we'd be stopping someplace to pick up more people." She slowly broke into a scowl. "You know, that's not a very good way to do business."

"You're right, it's not," the flight attendant agreed. "I don't understand why they would have done that."

"You know what, baby?" Angel asked, reaching for Test again. "I don't think we should fly with this airline again. I mean, I don't think adjoining seats are so much to ask for."

By now the general public were staring. The flight attendant was flustered and backpedaling faster than a clown on a unicycle.

"You're absolutely right. Did you say there's a vacant seat by you?" she asked Angel, who nodded. "Well, I really think you and your husband should sit together, and since there are no spare seats here in coach…" She trailed off.

Test nodded and speared her with his piercing eyes. "I'll go get my gear. Thank you."

"No, thank _you_," the flight attendant replied, giving them the most apologetic of smiles.

Angel followed Test, who reached for his bags.

"You need help?" she asked worriedly.

Test grinned over his shoulder at her. "Nah, I got 'em."

"Ooh!" Angel squealed as he easily lifted his carry on luggage. "My baby's been working out!"

Test chuckled a little. "Come on."

Angel grabbed his wrist and led him towards the front of the plane. Many other travelers were watching, with expressions ranging from curiosity to jealousy, to 'oh, to be young and in love'. Angel grinned to herself. Well, they were half right.

Finally they reached her seat and got settled in.

"You know," Angel started, leaning over into Test. "Those people back there probably think I'm nuts, but at least I've got someone cool to talk to now. I was going crazy up here."

Test grinned at her. "You're amazing, you know that?"

Angel mirrored his smile. "I'll do just about anything for a pretty face."

Test laughed. "No, seriously. The only other person I know who can fool her way into first class is Trish Stratus. I haven't flown it since I was in T & A."

'Go figure,' Angel thought.

"Well, you know," Angel smiled flirtily. "You and me…between us…we could be T & A." She brought her face towards his and he closed his eyes as their lips touched. They deepened the kiss, grabbing faces, shoulders and hair. When they came up for air they noticed people were staring. 

"We're newlyweds," Angel explained, before turning back to Test. "I always wanted to say that."

Test just grinned and kissed her again.

* * * *

"…So I went to some nightclubs, did some sightseeing and ate Easter dinner at a cute little restaurant. It was awesome. I'd love to go back. Everyone was so nice to me, especially in the clubs. I had that many guys talking to me and buying me drinks. Apparently I have a sexy accent. What do you think?"  
"I'll tell you what I think," Test muttered, pulling her into his arms for an intense kiss. Eventually he released her and they continued down the hall, hand in hand.

Test slowly shook his head. "I still can't believe you were in Toronto. You should have called. We could have hung out and done some…_stuff_ together."

Angel smiled at him. Good old Test. Master of the single entendre. She sighed regretfully.

"Next time, eh?"

Test grinned down at her. "See? You're already talking Canadian." They stopped next to a locker room door.

"Well," Test shrugged. "I guess this is where I leave you. Remember to get your bags from my locker room before you leave."

"Will do."

Test held out his arms and she happily stepped into them. "Thanks for everything, Test."

"No, thank _you_," Test replied. "You know, after the show, you should come by my hotel room. We'll hang out…and talk…and stuff."

Angel beamed at him. "Sounds great. I mean, we'll have to see how we both feel by then. But yeah, I think…stuff…sounds good."

"Great," Test grinned. "I'll see you then."

They stared at each other for a long time, neither willing to be the first to move away. Finally, Angel pressed back against Test's hands, but then stopped, turned back, threw her arms around Test's neck and kissed him. He responded and they kissed frantically, urgently, all arms and hands and legs and lips. Just then the door opened and Benoit grabbed for any body part he could reach (her left arm) and dragged her into the locker room. He expected her to struggle, but she didn't. She just let him pull her along and called out cheerfully, "Bye, Test."

Test didn't argue or try to go after her. He just stood in the doorway and watched. But he didn't give Benoit that fearful sideways glance like he should have. He had eyes only for Angel.

"Later, gorgeous," he said softly, and then he walked away.

Angel perched happily on the bench as Benoit glared down at her. 

"Unbelievable," he muttered.

Angel grinned triumphantly. "You'd better believe it, 'cause tonight I'm going to his hotel room and after that there's gonna be another team called T & A around here. Test and Angel."

"I was talking about you wearing an Edge and Christian jersey," Benoit scowled.

Angel's smile didn't fade. 

"Oh, don't worry about that," she replied, getting to her feet again. "I'll do a striptease, just for you. Strip, because off it comes," she started, pulling it over her head to reveal the 'Crippler' tank top. "And tease, because, sorry mate, but that's all you're getting."

Benoit just shook his head as she grinned maniacally.

"How was your Easter, Benoit?" she prodded. "Did you have fun? Did you and the wife get up to making any more little wolverines? I found out, by the way, that you Canadians have a clothing brand called 'Roots'. Can I just say that's a great name? No, really, Benoit. You saw your wife for the first time in God knows how long. Does your place in Edmonton have central heating or do you have to burn your own wood?" She was on a roll and Benoit was just about to snap. "You can tell me, you know. For, while the thought of you having sex and actually enjoying it could render me incapable of eating for months, it does make you human."

She waited for him to hit her, or at least scream, but he just glared at her, his face impassive. She took it as a cue to continue.

"Wanna know where I ended up? Apparently they _do_ let whores into Canada. Well, they let me in anyway. I thought you and me could even sit together on the plane like we normally do, but there was the certain problem of you leaving from Edmonton and me leaving from Toronto. It just didn't work."

Finally, Benoit spoke. "What the hell were you doing in Toronto?"

Angel grinned at how pissed off he sounded. "Trish invited me to spend Easter with her family."

"Trish," Benoit repeated. "Trish Stratus?"

"Yep," Angel grinned. "She's my new best friend. You have Jericho now, so I felt like I had to find one. I'm going to have to keep her around a lot longer than Jeff or Molly, though. She's real useful. She got us first class seats both ways for a hundred dollars or less and I'm not even gonna tell you how she did it."

"What the hell do you have in common with Trish Stratus?" Benoit demanded.

Angel paused thoughtfully. "Lots of things. According to you, we're both whores. We both _screw_ people to get what we want. We're both totally hot and, believe it or not, we're both a hell of a lot smarter than you."

Benoit just glowered at her, making her grin even wider.

"It just kills you that I have a new friend, doesn't it? Well, like I said, you have Jericho and you don't think I'm just gonna stay here all day and listen to the two of you whispering sweet nothings, do you? Hey, you know what? We should play that game. You know the one. The 'let's see who can get rid of the other's friends first' game. Come on, Benoit. You know you love that game. You're real good at it. Remember how good it feels when you win? Do you remember? 'Cause I sure do. It feels good, right? Real good. Come on, Benoit. Let's play. You know you want to."

She hadn't noticed that Chris Jericho had entered the locker room and was staring at her with a smirk on his face.

"I'm not even gonna ask," he announced, before heading for one of the lockers and hanging up a spare shirt.

Angel scowled over at him. "Do you live here now or something?"

"Certainly looks that way," Jericho replied, making himself at home.

Angel just narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm gonna go see Regal."

Jericho frowned at her as she left and then he turned to Benoit. "She doesn't like me much, does she?"  
Benoit simply shrugged. "She doesn't like anyone."

Jericho smiled knowingly. "You're a good teacher, then?"

Benoit just blinked. 

"She's a good student," he replied expressionlessly.

Jericho nodded and they left it at that.

* * * *

Angel grinned as she left Regal's office. She felt pretty damn proud of herself after that little arrangement. Tonight, Benoit had no cause for complaint. He had Commissioner Regal one on one. Angel had even arranged a match for Benoit's little friend, although it was more for Angel's benefit than Jericho's. With Benoit taking on Regal, she had someone to cheer for, while she could look forward to watching Chris Jericho and Kurt Angle tearing each other apart. It was absolutely perfect.

"You're Lita's cousin, aren't you?"

Angel scowled and stopped short. She'd been around three months now and she knew almost everyone, at least from sight. Surely it wasn't too much to ask for them to learn her name.

"I have many names," she stated, turning around. "Lita's cousin, Benoit's manager, Jeff Hardy's ex, Test's sort of current, Steve Blackman's student." She'd almost stopped when she realized who she was talking to, but by then she had to save face. It was a good rule in life. When faced with your hero, do not crumble.

The tall, muscular woman gave an apologetic smile. "Sorry, I should know better than anyone not to place labels on people. I'm Chyna."

"Yeah, I know," Angel smiled, shaking her hand. "Angel Torres."

"That's right, Angel," Chyna nodded thoughtfully. "You used to be a valet for rent, right?"

"Yep."

"And you never did valet for Billy, did you?" Chyna grinned.

Angel's eyes widened. "No! I didn't, either. I was meaning to, it just never happened."

"Don't worry about it," Chyna advised. "He probably can't even remember he asked you. But you said you're managing now? That's quite a big step up."

"Yeah, you'd think," Angel murmured, unable to conceal her bitterness. She decided to change the subject. "So, I saw what you did to Steven Richards on Smackdown. Wish I could have done that when he Steven-kicked me."

Chyna shrugged modestly. "If he wants to get in the ring, I'm gonna treat him just like I would anyone else…by kicking his ass."

Angel grinned. "Well, I thought it was awesome."

Suddenly, she felt arms around her. 

"Hey, I knew I saw you talking to some guy."  
"Hi Test," Chyna smiled.

Test jumped a mile. "Chyna! You know I meant 'guy' as in 'hey, you guys', right?"

"It's okay," Chyna replied, amused. "I'll take it as a compliment."

Test still stared at her sheepishly. 

"You and me have a lot in common, you know," he said thoughtfully. "When people see Hunter and Steph, they always forget about us."

Chyna nodded, then stared at Test and Angel for a while. "We're both better off without them."  
"You got that right," Test nodded. "I sure hope Hunter's enjoying Steph's little…well, things that make her Steph, if you know what I mean."

"Hunter's no dreamboat either," Chyna informed him. "Look, I really have to go, but Angel, great meeting you and Test, we really should get together and bitch about our ex's sometime."

"That'd be sweet," Test enthused. When Chyna left, he leaned over to kiss Angel's cheek. "You're not jealous, are you? 'Cause it's not like she's some other chick. She's Chyna!"

Angel laughed and grabbed for his hand. "Don't worry, I'm not jealous. It's good to find new people to hang with."

"It sure is," Test grinned, pulling her in for another kiss. They broke apart when they heard a derisive snort and their eyes followed the person as he walked away.

"Hey Jeff!" Angel called out, still feeling a little giddy. "Good luck in your rematch with Triple H. I know you can do it."

Jeff stopped and spun around furiously. 

"Let's get something straight," he spat. "I do not want or need your luck, okay? You can keep it." With that, he spun back around and continued on his way.

"Ouch," Test murmured, peering sympathetically at Angel's stunned face.

"Forget that," Angel scowled, removing Test's arm from her body. "I'll be damned if I'm gonna let him talk to me like that in front of you." She marched up the hall after Jeff.

"Angel, wait!" Test called out, but she was never going to stop.

Angel threw the door to the locker room open, just after Jeff had closed it. Matt and Lita were in there, but she didn't notice them as she strode straight up to Jeff and got right in his face.

"No, _you_ get something straight, okay?" she shouted. "All I was doing was wishing you luck. You could have graciously accepted it, but no, you had to be an asshole about it, didn't you?"

Jeff glared at her for a moment before he spoke. "You know what I don't understand? Why you're wishing me luck at all. I really do not get it."  
Angel threw her hands onto her hips. "Well, maybe I want to be a bigger person about this."  
"Why?" Jeff asked again.

"What do you mean why?" Angel demanded.

"Did someone hit you in the head again, Angel? Because you've clearly forgotten that we're no longer friends."  
Angel scowled at him. "God, if I'd known I was going to put up with so much shit for just wishing you luck, I wouldn't have bothered."

"You _shouldn't _have bothered," Jeff replied. "And I still don't get why you did. Just because you finally found out that we were right all along about Edge and Christian doesn't mean you can come back to us as soon as things fall apart."

"This has nothing to do with Edge and Christian!"

"What, then?" Jeff demanded. "Is it the fact that I have a title now, you suddenly want a piece of me? 'Cause let me tell you something. I didn't need you in my life before I won the gold and I sure as hell don't need you now."  
"I don't give a crap about your title, Jeff!" Angel exclaimed.

"Well, what is it? 'Cause the only other thing I can figure is that you were just being nice to me so Test won't think you're a total bitch."

Slap! Angel's palm slammed into Jeff's cheek. 

"Forget this," she said evenly, glaring at Jeff ferociously. "This was obviously a mistake. I'm leaving."

"Go!" Jeff shouted after her, reaching for his cheek. "Go be with Test. Have some fun, have a blast. And try to find whatever it is you've lost. Because you have changed, Angel, and I'll tell you one thing. Back then I liked you. I might even have loved you. But not anymore, Angel. Not anymore."

The room was gripped in a deadly silence as Angel tried to think of what to say. Finally, her shoulders heaved in a huge breath and she stormed out, before he could have the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

Unfortunately, Test was waiting for her and by the time she spotted him, her tears had already started.

"It didn't go so well?" Test asked softly, drawing her into his arms.

"I don't know why I bother, Test," she sobbed against his chest. "I really don't. He used to be my best friend, but I don't even know him anymore."

"Angel," Test said at last. "If he makes you sad, he's not worth it."

"I know," Angel sighed. "I'm sorry. You don't need this."

"Come here," Test smiled, leaning down to kiss away her tears. "You are going to cheer up because you and me are gonna hang out later. Okay?"

Angel formed a small smile. "Okay."

Test released her, then wrapped and arm around her. "Now, let's get you back to your keepers. What's up with those two anyway?"  
Angel gave an exasperated sigh. "I don't even think I want to know. They're awful friendly for guys who are supposed to hate each other's guts. A little _too_ friendly, if you ask me."

Test just laughed and gripped her shoulders. Angel snuggled into his body a little bit. Tonight was going to be fun, and she suddenly realized she wanted it as much as Test did. Sex might not solve everything but sometimes, if you were lucky, it could help dull the pain.

* * * *

"Okay boys, I'm back and I have some good news for the both of you. Ayatollah, I figured since you live here now I might as well book your matches too, so I got you both singles. Benoit, you'll be facing…what in the hell are you wearing?" she blurted.

Benoit stared at her indifferently. "Tights."

"No, no, no," Angel argued. "That is not a set of tights. That is a gay pride banner!" She looped a circle around him, taking in every shocking detail. "All I have to say is…pretty."

Benoit glared at her. "Do you have a problem with my outfit?"

"Not if the fact that you have your name on your butt doesn't strike you as unusual. It's like 'this is my name, this is my ass. Come get me, boys'!"

"Sister, you think you can tear your eyes away from Benoit's ass long enough to tell us what's wrong with those tights, 'cause I really don't see it either."

Angel frowned at Jericho. "Has it escaped you that they're purple?"

"So?"  
"So?" Angel cried incredulously. "Oh, I forgot I was dealing with the king of fruity outfits. Or should that be queen?"  
Benoit glowered at her.

"Are you finished?" he scowled.

Angel smirked at him. "Give me a minute. I'm on a roll."

"If you don't tell us who are opponents are now, the only thing that'll be rolling will be your head," Benoit snapped.

"Gee, Benoit," Angel frowned. "That was almost witty. Maybe the J-man _is_ a good influence on you."

"Tell us!" Benoit cried impatiently.

"Okay, okay, keep your faggy tights on. Numero uno, you have Regal. And el presidente," she continued, turning to Jericho. "You get Angle and my wishes that you kick the shit out of each other."

"El presidente?" Jericho asked. "What the hell's that mean?"

"It's Spanish for Mr. President," Angel told him slowly.

"I know that," Jericho scowled. "But Ayatollah, fair enough, J-man, I get that one too, but el presidente? Where the hell did you pull that from?"

Angel cocked her head. "Well, you are the president of the Winnipeg chapter of the cult of the crippler, right?"

Jericho smirked. "You're funny."

"I know," Angel replied, mirroring his expression.

Benoit had had enough.

"Go sit down," he ordered Angel.

Angel smiled sweetly at him and headed for the bench.

"Okay, Benoit," Jericho started. "I've faced that assclown all too many times, so, aside from him being a jackass, I can tell you his weaknesses, and he has many…"

"Seriously, Benoit!" Angel cried suddenly. "Where did you get those tights? Were they free with the April edition of Jerichoholics monthly?"

Benoit spun furiously. "Just sit there and keep your damn mouth shut."  
Angel grinned at him. "Yes sir!" she cried.

She let them continue their strategy session as she watched and started singing 'Somewhere Over The Rainbow' under her breath. Badass Benoit in purple tights. It was insult gold!

* * * *

"Okay, so we know they're up to something," Benoit pointed out. "You just have to kick Angle's ass before they get a chance to try it."

Jericho gave a smug smile. "Don't worry, Benoit. By the time you see Kirk Angel again he won't even be the quarter of a man he is now."

Benoit nodded and held out his hands. Jericho touched fists with him as Angel rolled her eyes; then Jericho left the room.

"Sure you don't want to go after him?" Angel asked as soon as he was gone.

Benoit turned and stared at her.

"Serious, Benoit. You'd look so cute in a little cheerleader's outfit. We could even make it purple like those tights."  
Benoit glowered. "Do you have to act like a spoiled little child?"

Angel nodded slowly. "Role play. In life we always take up the role expected of us, whether we mean to or not."

"What, are you a psychologist or something?" Benoit asked skeptically.

"Maybe," Angel shrugged. "It's like you and Jericho though. As soon as he started hanging around, his personality completely dominated yours, so you let it and fell into the role of the submissive little sidekick. I mean, look at yourself. You even dress like him now."  
"You're good," Benoit replied expressionlessly. "But I know you too well and I'm not falling for it. You just play your role by keeping your damn mouth shut."

He turned his head over towards the TV so he could watch Jericho's match.

"Or you'll what?"  
Benoit stopped and raised his eyebrows. He turned back, a slight smirk on his face.

"Don't try me, little girl," he growled, raking one or two menacing steps towards her.

"Why, you'll make me famous?" Angel asked, unimpressed. "Not your catchphrase, Benoit. Try again."  
Benoit's smirk widened.

"If you try me," he said slowly. "I'll set you free."  
Angel nodded slowly. "That's what I'm counting on."  
"No," Benoit scowled, lunging forward, grabbing her by the throat and slamming her back against the wall. "You don't get it, do you? You don't get it." He closed his fist around her throat and glared at her furiously. "If you try me, I will set you free."

"Okay," Angel coughed, kicking out at him, but only managing to increase the pressure on her neck. "Let me down."

Benoit backed off and released her so she fell onto the bench with a thud that jarred up her spine.

"God, psycho."

Benoit ignored her and turned back to the TV, taking his seat in front of it.

"So maybe you didn't get any this weekend," Angel muttered. "How is that my fault?"  
Benoit spun furiously. "What did you say?"

"Nothing!" Angel cried. "Just turn around and watch your boyfriend's match."

Still glaring at her, Benoit raised his hand, holding his thumb and forefinger half an inch apart. 

"This close, princess," he advised. "You're walking a very, very thin line."  
Angel scowled at him, folded her arms defiantly and leaned back against the wall. Now she couldn't even enjoy watching Jericho and Angle beating the crap out of each other. He'd even taken that away from her. Her humor was soon restored, though, as Angle led Jericho up the ramp, where he was ambushed by William Regal.

"Ha," Angel grinned. "Like none of us saw _that _coming."

Benoit leaped to his feet.

"Get up," he ordered. "We're going out there."

Angel stared at him indignantly. "But your match isn't until..."

"Move!" Benoit screamed.

Angel sighed and followed Benoit's rapidly disappearing form.

By the time she reached the backstage area, Benoit was already wreaking havoc in the ring, rescuing Jericho from the Regal Stretch and the ankle lock.

Angel watched on a backstage monitor as he hit a German each on Angle and Regal, then suplexed Kurt onto Regal's body with sickening force.

"Shit!" Angel cried. "He is pissed!"

Regal and Angle slowly, painfully rolled from the ring, leaving Benoit and Jericho. What happened next shocked everyone. Everyone except Angel, that is. Benoit leaped from the ring, then ran over next to where Jericho was lying. He grabbed his fallen countryman around the shoulders and helped him from the ring and up the ramp.

Angel shook her head slowly as they made their way towards where she was standing. She'd hoped her little comment about Jericho being the dominant personality would hurt Benoit's ego. Obviously, she was wrong.

On the TV, Regal was livid. He was calling Benoit out for their match, despite the fact that it was supposed to come later on the card.

"Benoit's gonna get it," Angel grinned, before turning to the two Canadians. "Hey, Benoit. I thought you should know Regal's calling you out."

Benoit didn't look up from where he was helping Jericho to loosen up his injured shoulder. "Regal can suck my dick."

"If he can get Jericho away long enough to get a look in," Angel mumbled under her breath, turning back to the TV. On the way she caught the eye of a tech guy, who was staring straight at Jericho and Benoit, absolutely bewildered. Well, it would look pretty strange to someone who had only known them as mortal enemies.

"They're just friends, I swear," Angel told him with a dramatic shrug.

The tech guy grinned back at her.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her by the arm and she spun defensively. "Oh, so you decided to go out there after all, huh?"

Benoit smirked at her and led her along. "I never could resist a challenge."

Angel sighed and started walking, soon realizing they were being followed. 

"What, you're coming too?" she asked, disgusted.

"You got a problem with that?" a still weary Jericho asked.

"Yeah. I do, actually."

Jericho shrugged, not easy with a half-busted shoulder. "Then I guess it must suck to be you."

Angel scowled and turned to Benoit. "If Jericho's gonna valet for you, you don't need me."

Benoit gave her a look out of the corner of his eye. "Jericho is not my valet. You are my valet. Jericho is my partner."

"What?" His words hit her in a rush of blood to her skull. An ally was one thing. A partner was something completely different. Angel wasn't sure how she felt, but she knew she didn't like it. Not one little bit.

Suddenly, as they reached the ramp, Jericho's words hit her again.

"I guess it must suck to be you."  
Angel scowled to herself as they headed towards the ring. "Yes, Jericho. It certainly does."

* * * *

A huge cheer rang out when Benoit appeared, followed by and even louder one when the crowd realized that Jericho was following. The two of them sprinted to the ring, leaving Angel to walk solemnly behind. 

Benoit started punching Regal as Jericho went for Angle. Eventually, Regal and Benoit were left alone in the ring as Jericho threw Angle out and jumped down after him. Benoit sent Regal for a suplex, then spread his arms. Headbutt time.

"Come on, Regal!" Angel shouted. "He's going for headbutt! Roll towards me. Towards me!" She heaved a sigh of relief as Regal moved and Benoit's head slammed into the canvas. "Yeah, alright!"

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"  
Angel spun and noticed that Jericho had finished with Angle and was walking past her.

Angel smirked at him. "Cheering on the better man."

Jericho shook his head slowly and turned to the ring, clutching the apron. 

"Come on, Benoit," he said quietly. "Kick some ass."

But the only one doing any kicking was Regal, who grounded Benoit with a standing sideways dropkick.

"Yeah!" Angel cried. "Way to go!"

Regal was doing all the attacking and actually made several covers, but Benoit always kicked out.

"Yeah, Benoit," Jericho said, rubbing his sore shoulder. "Come on."  
Suddenly, Benoit reversed a suplex into a crossbody press. He got a nearfall, but Regal took him out with a clothesline and made the cover.

"Go again!" Angel shouted as Benoit kicked out on two, knocking that every kick out or raised shoulder expended more and more energy. The next cover also got two, before Regal put Benoit in an unorthodox abdominal stretch. Then he toyed with Benoit for a while, standing over his fallen body to wave at a hostile crowd and shoving Benoit back down whenever he tried to move. Finally, Regal holed Benoit up in the corner, but Benoit spun him round and hit him with chop after chop after chop, and two German suplexes before Regal reversed and tossed Benoit from the ring. Kurt Angle was waiting, but Jericho was there before he could do more than bounce Benoit's head off the apron and lift him back into the ring. Regal locked on the Regal Stretch, but Jericho arrived and broke the hold, before diving from the ring again.

"Damn cheat!" Angel cried. "Come on, Regal!"

But Benoit locked on the crossface and Regal tapped out, just before Kurt Angle tried to save him. Jericho quickly disposed of Kurt, giving Benoit a few extra seconds to injure Regal in the crossface. Regal crawled from the ring in Angel's corner.

"Are you okay?" she asked, putting a hand on his back.

"No, I am bloody well not okay," Regal replied, glaring into the ring as Jericho raised Benoit's hand in victory. "Those bloody toe rags besmirched me!"

"Next time, commissioner," Angel soothed. "Next time."  
"Yes, you're right, my dear. Next time."

They both frowned at the ring. Angel's mind suddenly went very clear. Her plans were ordering themselves in her mind. Step one, bring Test around. He was almost there anyway. All she had to do was get him to fight for her on Sunday and he'd do it, no problem. His reward would come first, of course. She was perfectly prepared to sleep with him, especially so she could find out about that thing he did with his tongue Trish had been talking about. Step two. Get Jericho banned from ringside so it'd be a fair fight. Step three. Plot with Regal so it _wouldn't_ be a fair fight. Unlike Kurt, Test was a nice guy. And besides, he wouldn't be doing it for himself. He'd be doing it for Angel and she'd be doing him.

"Everybody wins," Angel mused, leaving her spot and following Benoit and Jericho up the ramp.

"Hey, long time no see," Test said, appearing from nowhere and kissing her deeply. 

"Yeah," Angel grinned. "What's it been, like an hour? Two, maybe?" She stood on tiptoe and gently brushed his lips with hers. "Where you headed?"

"The ring. Wanna come?"

"Sure. Hey Benoit!" she called. "I'm going with Test."

Benoit nodded and kept talking to Jericho.

"That was easy," Test said, reaching for her hand.

"Yeah, I know. New love'll do that to you. I've gotta get out. They're driving me insane."

"Well, I'm not letting you go tonight," Test told her. "They got a problem with that, they can deal with me."

Angel grinned and kissed him. That was just what she wanted to hear.

"Hey, Test, man. You ready to go?"

Test turned. "Yeah, man. Let's do this thing."

"Hey, Billy!" Angel cried.

"Angel," Billy smiled. "The little valet for rent." He frowned at her and Test. "You guys an item now?"

"We're hanging together," Test nodded. "Where's Raver?"

"It's Raven," Raven replied darkly. "And I'm here."

"Okay," Test said, putting a hand on Angel's back. "Lets do this."

Angel broke into a grin as soon as they emerged onto the stage and could see the ring.

"Hmm," she mused. "Radicalz."

"You know those guys?" Test frowned.

"I know them well," Angel nodded. "I got Benoit kicked out."

"Serious? Sweet!" Test grinned. "Too bad you couldn't bust up the rest of them."

Angel shrugged. "I tried."  
Test waited at the ramp for Billy, then the two of them dove right in. It was two on three, but Angel's boys weren't outclassed. They were still missing someone.

"What about me?" Raven cried, racing down the ramp. "What about Raven?"

No one really noticed. They were too busy fighting.

Angel slowly stepped around the outside of the ring. She pulled out her sticks and tapped them together as she walked.

"Hello, Terri."

Terri's eyes widened in terror. "Angel! What are you going to do to me?"

"Nothing," Angel smirked, suddenly spotting Saturn's discarded hat. She picked it up carefully. "Oh, did your cat die? Poor little kitty."

"Hey!" Terri cried. "That's Perry's hat!"

Angel still smirked and put the hat on. "Wanna fight me for it?"

Terri pouted and ran at Angel, shoving her in the chest. Angel didn't even move. She simply ducked down and scooped Terri through the air in a back body drop.

"Hey! That's my woman!"

Angel fixed her gaze on Saturn and started backing up.

"Hola, 'cita. How's my favorite putacita doin', huh?"

"Uh oh," Angel replied, turning slowly to face Eddie. He grabbed her viciously by the shoulders and glared deep into her eyes. 

"Why you always gotta be so stupid, huh, 'cita? You so pretty, why can't you just be like Terri and stay out of it?"

"I don't know," Angel scowled, suddenly bringing her knee up in Eddie's crotch. "I guess I never learn." She made a run for it and by the time Eddie was back on his feet, she was safely in Test's corner.

"Come on, Test! Let's go, baby!" she cried, straightening her new hat. She now wasn't worried at all. On her side she had Raven – 6'3", 240; Billy Gunn – 6'5', 270 and Test, 6'6", 280. The other side had Eddie – 5'8", 215; Malenko – 5'8", 220 and Saturn – 5'9", 240. It wasn't even a contest.

* * * *

"Uh oh, that can't be good," Billy Gunn commented.

He, Test and Angel were sitting on a couple of armchairs in a general purpose locker room, watching the rest of Raw. Well, Billy was watching. Test and Angel were making out again. At the sound of Billy's voice, Angel moved her lips away from Test's.

"What's wrong, Billy?"

"Matt just got banned from ringside. Jeff's a dead man."

Angel shrugged. "Should make it a fair fight. If Jeff's worth anything at all he shouldn't need help to win."

"I'd agree with you," Billy frowned. "But it's Hunter. I was on a team with that guy. I know what he's capable of."

"Well, Jeff should have thought of that before, shouldn't he?"

Test stared thoughtfully at the TV. "So Matt's letting Lita go out there with Jeff? Is he crazy?"  
"No, just whipped," Angel replied. "Trust me, I know."

Test peered down at her. 

"Whipped, eh?" he asked, putting a hand behind her head.

"Yeah," Angel grinned, moving her mouth towards his. "Whipped."

"Come on, Jeff," Billy enthused, leaning forward in his chair. "You can beat Hunter. Come on." He reached into his gym bag and pulled out some Doritos. "You guys want any?" he offered the others before he caught sight of them. "Never mind. Looks like you've already got some."

The only sounds were the blaring of the TV, Billy's shouts of encouragement to Jeff, and Test and Angel's murmurs. Until…

"Oh my God! No, Austin, no!"

Billy sounded so insistent that Test and Angel immediately broke apart.

"I thought Austin left," Test frowned.

"He did. He's back and he's pissed at Matt. Jeff's down in the ring and Lita's on the ramp. She doesn't know which way to go."

Angel went pale. "So, Austin's back. And Matt's down. And Jeff's down." As soon as she got the affirmative on all three, she leaped to her feet. "I gotta go." She sprinted from the room before they could reply.

"Where'd she go?" Billy frowned as Test relaxed into the suddenly huge chair.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "She better come back, though. 'Cause tonight's the night I'm gonna get lucky."  
Billy grinned. "You looked like you were getting pretty lucky over there anyway."

Test nodded. "She's hot!"

"Yeah, she is," Billy nodded. "A little young for me, but way to go, man."  
Test just grinned and nodded. "Tonight, Billy. Tonight's the night."

* * * *

Angel burst frantically into the locker room, knowing she might already be too late.

"Who the hell are you and what do you think you're doing bursting in here like that? You're either very brave or very dumb. So, what's it to be, girlie?"

Still doubled over and gasping for air, Angel swallowed and spoke. "I need your help."

"Help? We don't give out no help. You want the APA, honey. Go back in the hall, take a left…"

"No," Angel interrupted. "You are the only ones who can help. Please."

He frowned at her. "Well, I still don't know whether you're brave or stupid, but what do you think, Kane? Should we listen to what the girl has to say?"

The man in the mask turned his head towards Angel and spoke in a low voice. "Talk."

Angel swallowed. "You have to go to the ring. You have to stop them. If you don't, they'll kill her. They'll kill my cousin."

The unmasked guy still frowned. "Honey, what in the hell are you talking about?"  
"Lita. They're gonna kill her. Austin and Triple H. You're the only ones who can help me. Please." She was hysterical and tears were streaming down her face.

Suddenly, the unmasked guy seemed barely restrained. "What do you say, Kane? Should we help this girl? Should we kick Hunter and Austin's asses?"

Kane nodded slowly. "Let's go."

And then they were gone.

Angel dropped to her haunches and fell forward onto the ground, sobbing loudly. They were going to help her. 

'It's going to be okay,' she told herself. 'It's going to be okay.'

******************************************************************************************

A/N (again): As of the next chapter, this story will be re-rated 'R'. Please follow me there. Cheers!


	41. Taking The Test

Title: Taking The Test

Rating: R for language, mindgames, adult themes, angst and a very mild…erm…adult situation.

Spoilers: For Smackdown and the previous Raw

Summary: Hmm, with a title like that, what could this be about?

A/N: A little bit of real people-ness in this, in that I use Test's real name, but I feel it's justified because Stephanie has been known to call him 'Andrew' on TV before and I use it in exactly the same context as this. 

A/N 2: Ah, my reviewers, I love you all. Seriously, I do J Andrea, isn't leaving you hanging kinda the POINT? Lol. Btw, where are your stories? Been lookin' for 'em. You see, as all people who've posted signed reviews would probably know, you review mine, I review yours. Kinda like returning the favour. 

SMACKDOWN, APRIL 19TH, 2001

Angel left William Regal's office with a smile on her face. The fact that she and the commissioner were on the same page was undisputed, but it continually amazed her what they could come up with when they put their minds together. She had a match for Jericho and Benoit. They were going to hate it, but Angel's job was all but safe. At first she'd told Regal she didn't think it was going to fly, but then he'd explained it to her and he was right. It was perfect.

"Test!" she cried, spotting him headed towards her. She ran at him and leaped happily into his arms. They kissed briefly, then Test stood her on her feet.

"You never came back Monday night. I thought we were gonna hang out."

"I'm sorry," Angel replied, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling his chest. "I had some stuff to take care of." Test's hands paused on her back and he frowned down at her. "Is everything okay?"

Angel nodded. "I think it worked out."

"Good," Test replied, giving her a small smile. "You know, you missed the end of the match. Jeff lost his title."

"I know," Angel replied quietly, while thinking 'but Lita didn't get hurt and that's all I care about'.

As if hearing her thoughts, Test went on. "But as much as it sucks, it's probably a good thing. Maybe Austin and Hunter'll leave them alone now. They don't deserve that. No one does."  
Angel nodded again and surmised that Test was in one of his dark moods. That had to change. She started moving her hand and pressed her body closer against his. "Sounds like you were really into that match."  
Test shrugged. "Well, I had nothing better to do."

"Aw," Angel pouted, staring up at him at last. "Did you miss me?"

Test gave her a little smile. "Sure I missed you."

"That's so sweet," Angel grinned. "Well, don't worry. I fully intend making it up to you."  
"You do?" 

"Oh yeah," Angel replied, burying one hand in his hair and looping the other arm around his neck. "I do." She kissed him furiously and he responded immediately, pushing her back gently against the wall and moving his arms and hands to support her so their faces were almost level. 

'It must suck having to bend down so far every time you wanna kiss someone,' Angel thought as she gripped him tighter and deepened the kiss. 'And I'm actually kinda tall.'

He was so big she felt tiny in his arms, almost like a doll. But she was the one in control. She was the one calling the shots. She felt him getting more and more turned on as their kisses became deeper, more intense, and their hands grabbed each other more tightly and their bodies got hotter, way hotter, almost on fire, and their breathing became shallower. 

"Hello, Andrew."

Test immediately broke away and turned to glare at the brunette woman and the man in the leather hat.

"Stephanie," he spat acidly. "Hunter."

"Test," Triple H nodded. "Hey, cute girl. She's Benoit's right?"

Test glowered at him, his arm tightening around Angel. "Does she _look_ like she's Benoit's?"

"Well, yeah," Triple H grinned. "Unless she's got a twin or a clone or something."

"Well, she's not Benoit's," Test snapped. "She's mine, okay?"

Triple H raised his hands as if to say 'no arguments here'.

"Poor, sweet little Andrew," Stephanie said sarcastically. "You never did quite get that part, did you? You can't _own_ a woman. Isn't that right, Hunter?"

"Yes, dear," Triple H replied, giving Test a look that said, 'I agree with her and then I get laid. Watch and learn'.

"No," Test replied. "Just dogs. Right, Steph?"

Stephanie's mouth dropped open and she threw her hands onto her hips. Then, miraculously, she regained her composure and her superior smirk

"Well, I think it's nice you have a new little girlfriend. Look at her, Hunter. Cute little pleather pants, pretty little tank top. Why, she just has 'jailbait' written all over her, doesn't she?"

Triple H started chuckling, but Stephanie elbowed him in the ribs.

"You're just jealous that you're no longer young and hot and wrinkle-free," Test scowled.

Stephanie ignored him and kept examining Angel with her calculated gaze. Angel said nothing. She was studying Stephanie, working her out, picking her spot.

"And I'm sure she's got a pretty face somewhere under all that makeup," Stephanie went on. "Oh my God! Is that foundation Maybelline? Hey Hunter. Isn't she cute? She's trying to be like that girl from 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer'."

"What, the lesbian?" Triple H frowned.

"No," Stephanie scowled. "You know, that other one. The little blonde thing."

"Trish Stratus?"

Stephanie spun to him incredulously. "Trish! She's not on Buffy. And why did you even mention her name, anyway? You know you don't say the name of that…that…_skank _around me."

"Yes, dear," Triple H said patiently, leading her away. 

"Don't you 'yes dear' me. Why does it always have to be about Trish? Don't you know she slapped Daddy? Slapped him! And at Wrestlemania!" She kept on going until they were out of earshot.

Test chuckled as he watched Triple H trying to calm his wife.

"You know, sometimes I feel sorry for him. I mean, that could have been me. But then I remember who he is and I stop feeling sorry and start laughing instead." He took her hand and they started down the hall.

Angel smiled at him. "Why'd she call you Andrew?"  
"'Cause that's my name. You didn't think it was really Test, did you?"  
"No, but if Test's the name you want to be called, it's your identity and people should call you that. Otherwise it's like they're stealing your identity."  
Test shrugged. "She only does it to piss me off."

"Well, she _shouldn't _do it. It's like she thinks she has control over you, even though you're not together."

Test shrugged again. "Whatever. I don't wanna talk about Steph. She's a bitch. Let's talk about you. Do you have any cool nicknames?"

"Angel _is _my nickname."

Test stopped. "Are you serious?"

"What?" Angel grinned, wrapping her arms around his waist. "You didn't think it was my real name, did you?"

"Yes!" Test cried, smiling down at her with surprise and interest. "So, what's your real name?"  
"Alicia."  
Test nodded thoughtfully. "Sweet. Alicia Torres. That's very…Spanish."

"Yeah, I know. Go figure."

Test grinned. "So, why Angel?"

"Because people can't talk properly."

"What?" Test cried.

"It's the truth," Angel told him. "They call me Aleesha."

"That's a problem?"

Angel nodded. "My name is Alicia. Ah-leet-see-ah. You're not seeing the problem with that?"

"No," Test admitted. 

"Okay, so my family is real close, right? We're talking siblings, parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, etc, etc. When I was growing up I always hung out with my cousins. They were like my best friends, even though most of them were so much older than me. And we're mostly boys. Pretty much me and Lita were the only girls. And I loved her. I worshipped her, followed her around everywhere. So, no matter who was calling one of us, whether they were Hispanic or white, it was always 'Leesha and Lita' or 'Leet-see-ya and Lita.' You see how that could be confusing? So, because I was little and just so darn cute, everyone started calling me Angel instead and it just stuck. So, don't call me Alicia, okay? It's not my name and I won't answer to it."

Test nodded, intrigued. "So, Lita was more like your older sister than your cousin?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," Angel agreed. 

"Cool," Test smiled. "I've got an older sister."

"Really? I've got two older brothers. Mateo y Ricardo. Matt and Ricky," she explained to his confused face.

"Right," Test nodded. "Spanish."

Angel grinned at him as they finally reached the locker room. "You got it."

"So, I'll see you later, then?" Test asked, drawing her into his arms.

"You bet," Angel smiled back. "Bye, Andrew."

"Bye, Alicia," Test, replied, kissing her gently. 

Angel felt his hands on her ass, but close to her, like they were in her pockets or something. 

Then he pulled away.

"Later, Angel," he finished, heading off.

"Bye, Test." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a hotel matchbook. She opened it to find that a room number was printed inside.

'Clever work,' she thought, reaching out to open the door. 'I'll have to reward you for that.'

* * * *

"Okay boys, you'll be happy to know that I'm back and, after a very rigorous negotiating session with Regal, I did make a match for you."

Benoit and Jericho stared at her expectantly.

"Oh, Benoit. Nice to see you decided to leave the purple tights in the closet before you came out of it today."

Benoit glared as she smirked back at him. "Who are our opponents?"

"The Dudley Boyz."

"What?" Benoit screamed. "Get your ass back there and fix it."  
Angel simply folded her arms. "Not a chance."

"Excuse me!" Benoit yelled. "Did you just say not to me? You are gone, bitch, gone!"

Angel still held her ground. Steady, Freddy. Relax. I had to use all my bargaining power to get you what you want for Backlash, so I had to take what I could get tonight. I thought you guys would rather tag than singles so I did the best I could. If that's not good enough, you can go screw yourselves…or each other. Whatever."

Benoit gave her a strange look. "You got us matches for Backlash?" Angel nodded. "Both of us?"

"Yeah."

"Already?"

"Well, you have to work pretty quick round here."  
Benoit frowned. "So, who are our opponents?"  
Angel grinned. "Can't tell you. I've been sworn to secrecy."  
"Princess, I swear to God…" Benoit fumed.

"It's the truth. Something about letting the fans see your first reactions. But don't worry. I got you both exactly what you want."

Benoit and Jericho turned to look at each other. 

"Okay, Dudley Boyz," Jericho started. "No sweat. We're better than those guys. We can beat Buh Buh with speed and D-Von with skill. And now we have matches for Backlash, we can treat this as a warm up." 

Benoit nodded slowly, still only semi-convinced. Jericho went on with his strategy as Benoit nodded from time to time and occasionally gave his own input.

"Oh, Siegfried? Roy?" Angel called as soon as they were ignoring her. They looked up warily. "I thought you'd like to know. It's a table match."

Benoit was livid but Jericho just smirked. "Siegfried and Roy, eh? What's that make you? The white tiger?"

Angel grinned back. "Something like that." She felt Benoit's eyes on her and turned to face him. "What?" Benoit simply glared. "You'll like your matches, I swear. You especially." Benoit said nothing. "I can't tell you, you know. Sworn to secrecy, like I said."

Benoit's eyes tore through her and still he remained silent.

"Okay, fine," Angel sighed. "I'll give you a clue." She made a sound like a whip cracking.

"Aw," Jericho commented. "I wanted the bondage match."

Benoit glowered at Angel and shook his head slowly.

"Okay, I'll change tonight's match," she conceded. "But then I'm gonna have to scrap Backlash as well, and I can't guarantee I'll still get you what you want."

Benoit gave her one last scowl, then turned abruptly to Jericho. "I'll tell you something straight out. I hate table matches."  
Jericho stared at him incredulously. "You think I like them? They're a necessary evil. Like commissioners…and managers. It doesn't mean we're not going to win, though."

Benoit nodded solemnly and they started talking strategy again.

Angel dropped to the ground for some pushups, fully aware she was being ignored. It was becoming all too common lately.

* * * *

Minutes ticked past. Angel was still doing her exercises; Benoit and Jericho were still discussing table matches of days gone by and they were both still ignoring her.

"You know," she said slowly, bouncing to her feet. "Hanging around with you guys could give a girl an inferiority complex."

Still they ignored her, even as she paced out the room and circled them twice. 

"You know what this room needs? Other than fewer gay men? A punching bag." She accented her point by viciously giving the air a right hook. "Don't you think that's a good idea?"

The only response she got was, "Yeah, true. But that was a Dumpster match too. It doesn't really help us."

Angel sighed. "Hands up who else thinks we need a punching bag?" She paused. "Okay, hands up who thinks we don't? Hmm, a tie. I guess there's only one way to settle it. Everyone who thinks we need a punching bag in here, ignore Angel now." She waited a few seconds, then broke into a smile. "Sweet," she said, unknowingly using Test's favorite word. "We're getting a punching bag."

Suddenly, the door flew open and there stood Rhyno. He looked frantically around the room, before spotting Angel.

"Title match! I have a title match! You're coming too!" 

He let out a little cry and ran towards her, but was stopped with a massive chair shot from Benoit. He spun furiously, reaching for his head, only to meet with a Jericho dropkick, which pushed him right back through the doorway again.

"Out you go, jackass!" Jericho called, slamming the door and leaning against it. 

Rhyno tried to force his was back in, but Jericho, and the door, were up to the task.

Angel turned angrily to Benoit, her face similar to Regal's besmirched look. "What the hell did you do that for?"

Benoit stared at her coolly. "Princess, if you don't know, I'm not telling you."

"I thought I could valet for whoever I wanted."  
"And _I_ thought you knew the difference between a friend and an enemy. I guess we were both wrong."

Angel glowered at him. "I do. Rhyno's my friend; you're my enemy. I'm going to his match. Outta the way, Liberace," she spat at Jericho.

"Turn around!" Benoit screamed. She turned back slowly, still scowling. "Princess, if you leave this room right now, I am not going to seek revenge for whatever happens to you out there. I don't give a crap about our deal. If you're stupid enough to go out there, you're on your own."

"So what else is new?" Angel snapped, throwing the door open and slamming it after her.

"Stupid little whore!" Benoit screamed.

Jericho frowned. "What's this about a deal?"

Benoit scowled. "Only the biggest mistake I've ever made in my entire life."

Jericho raised his eyebrows. Benoit was really pissed. He was worried. He actually cared about the stupid little bitch. It was so weird. Benoit was Mr. Roboto. He didn't care about anyone or anything. But that was before Angel had come along.

Jericho slowly stepped up to Benoit and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, man, she'll be okay," he said, not believing it himself.

Benoit shrugged him off. "I don't give a crap about her. I just thought she was smarter than that."  
Just then the door flew open.

"You can cancel your make-out session, okay? He was already gone."

Jericho quickly turned to Benoit, expecting to see relief, but he didn't. What he saw was pure, unrestrained hatred. He knew that look. He'd _received_ that look. Benoit _did _hate Angel and, by the looks of things, she hated him right back. They stared at each other with laser beam eyes, powerful enough to explode the whole building. If looks could kill, Jericho was definitely standing near two corpses. So, why the hell did Benoit let Angel manage him, and why the hell did she let him coach her? It just didn't make any sense.

'Like I'll ever understand Benoit,' Jericho shrugged. He decided he had to stop the glare passing between them, though, before the room caught fire under its intensity.

"I've got one. Dudleyz versus Hardyz. Smackdown Xtreme."

Angel spun to face him and he received only a slightly less potent version of that glare. 

"I valeted that match," she said coolly. "If you want to play that way and you expect to win, you better know your way around a ladder."

"Don't worry about that," Jericho replied. "Royal Rumble, Benoit?"

Benoit scowled. He'd lost that match. He really hadn't needed reminding.

Angel grinned at Benoit's reaction. "I remember that match. You two were all over each other. Sign of things to come, huh?"  
Jericho stepped up to her, sick of her crap. "You know what, sister? You are a bitter, vindictive little bitch."

"Yes, I am," Angel smirked. "And now, I have a little thought for you. When did the Dudleyz last lose a table match?"

"Tonight," Jericho replied.

"Cocky," Angel mused. "But if the two of you want to win tonight you'll have to keep your cocks in your pants and your brains in your heads. Kapiche?"  
Jericho furiously folded his arms, but Angel held her ground.

"Try me, Jericho," she said softly, before winking at him. "_I'll_ make you famous."

* * * *

"You're letting him go first today," Angel commented as Jericho made his entrance. "That's nice of you."

"Shut your damn mouth," Benoit scowled.

Angel grinned as the first strains of 'Shooter' played. Benoit and Jericho in a table match against the Dudleyz. Suh-weet!

Angel and Benoit both jumped into the ring but, while Benoit and Jericho sized up the Dudleyz, Angel leaned causally back against the ropes. She knew what was about to happen.

Sure enough, William Regal's music hit, breaking the focus of all four wrestlers. They turned to the stage and saw that Regal was there, and Kurt Angle was standing beside him. Angel hadn't known about that part. Now, everyone in the ring was a hundred percent hostile.

Regal was holding a microphone and was ready to talk. 

"Once again, I grace you wonderful people with my presence. It is only ten days until Backlash, live on Pay Per View. But don't think for one moment, Chris Jericho, you are getting away lightly. Oh, no. Because you will face me, your WWF Commissioner William Regal, in a Duchess of Queensberry Rules match." Jericho gave him a 'what the hell is that?' look, so he went on. "I will explain the rules in due course. And in addition, Chris Benoit. You will face my good friend Kurt Angle in a thirty minute ultimate submission match."

"Told you," Angel said from behind Benoit, making the whip cracking sound again.

"The man who gets the most submissions within half an hour will be declared the winner."

Angel made the sound again.

"I love it," Benoit said coolly.

"Told ya," Angel gloated again, knowing Jericho wasn't quite so impressed. Well, screw him. She only had to keep Benoit happy.

"Now that I have spread such wonderful news," Regal went on. "Let the tables match begin. Thank you! Thank you!"  
Boom! Buh Buh Ray slammed into Benoit as D-Von his Jericho. Angel's eyes widened as she leaped frantically from the ting. No point getting in the middle of that.

"I am a valet," she told herself. "And this is a table match. I really should help."

She ducked around the ring in front of the announce desk and lifted the ring skirt. She reached down and dragged out a table, then set it up as quickly as she could.

"You guys!" she shouted. "I got you a table!"

She smirked to herself and went to stand in a vacant corner, finally looking in on the action. Jericho and D-Von were battling and Jericho nailed a dropkick, before Benoit dragged Buh Buh in.

"Let's go, Buh Buh!" Angel cried, just before Buh Buh hit a full nelson sit-out powerbomb. 

"Oh yeah!" Angel cried. "Awesome!"  
But it only spurred Benoit on as he nailed a knife-edge, only to have a whip reversed into a powerslam. Buh Buh threw his hands in the air as his half-brother climbed to the top. Buh Buh grabbed Benoit's legs and held them apart. 

"Wassup!"

"Wassup!" cried D-Von, flying through the air and slamming his head into Benoit's groin.

Angel cringed. "Ugh. Rather you than me."

Buh Buh slammed his hands into D-Von's chest. "D-Von!"  
"What?"

"Get the table!"

Both Dudleyz climbed from the ring to do just that.

"Good Lord," Angel laughed from the other side of the ring. "Benoit's about to get wood."

As the Dudleyz lifted the table to put it in the ring, Jericho pulled the baseball slide, but the Dudleyz just lifted the table and Jericho slipped through the gap. Before he could muster an offense, the Dudleyz moved the table back and slammed it into his face.

"Yeah!" Angel cried, throwing her hands in the air. "Alright!"

Benoit was still writhing inside the ring as the Dudleyz set up the table and waited for him to stand so they could perform the 3-D. Benoit stood, the Dudleyz grabbed him, but just as he was about to taste wood, Jericho appeared and pulled the table out the way. Benoit slammed into the canvas as Jericho hit a spinning heel kick on D-Von and went after Buh Buh, only to be punched down again. Buh Buh kept punching Jericho and laid him out on the table as D-Von went up top again, but before he could fly, Benoit attacked, dropping D-Von onto the ropes so they hit him in the groin. Buh Buh started after Benoit, but Jericho jumped off the table and flew at him, pushing him out of the ring.

"Hey Buh Buh Ray!" Angel cried from around the corner. "I got a table here. All you have to do is get in there and throw one of them out. They'll go right through it."  
Buh Buh raised his weary head and stared right at her before slowly, slowly breaking into a grin.

Angel smirked back. "It's right here, Buh Buh. Just throw 'em and…uh oh."

Buh Buh was chasing her. She turned to run, but slammed straight into the table. Suddenly, Buh Buh grabbed her and picked her up as if she weighed nothing. He turned her towards him and put her legs over his shoulders, ready for the powerbomb through the table. 

Instead of grabbing Buh Buh's head, Angel grabbed for his clothes. 

"I can do this!" she screamed as she started to fly through the air. "Ah, shiiiit!"

Crack! Angel bounced to her feet next to the broken table.

"I did it!" she cried, spinning to see Buh Buh lying there. "Has Lita ever pulled the 'rana to save herself from going through a table? I don't think so."

Up in the ring, the ref had heard the crash.

"Keep going!" he shouted. "The valet interfered."

"Arrrgh!" Buh Buh cried furiously, picking himself up and glaring at Angel.

"And now we run," she murmured.

Buh Buh chased after her for a moment before remembering he was in a match. He dove back into the ring just in time to move the table out the way of the Benoit and Jericho double superplex on D-Von. He then clotheslined Jericho from the ring and isolated Benoit, only to find himself in the waistlock. One German. Two Germans. Benoit set the third up next to the table, but just as he hit it, D-Von moved the table. The match went on.

Jericho nailed D-Von with a missile dropkick, before he and Benoit set the table up again and put D-Von on it Benoit kept D-Von down while Jericho went for the lionsault, but just as he hit the ropes, Buh Buh pulled him down from outside the ring. It was now up to Benoit to finish things. He spread his arms. Headbutt time. But just as he climbed the turnbuckles, Kurt Angle raced down the ramp and shoved him through the air, and through the table.

Kurt then switched his gaze to Angel, who glared back at him She quickly climbed into the ring and ran over to Benoit. While she was next to Benoit, even injured Benoit, she was safe.

Kurt smiled smugly at the carnage and backed up the ramp.

"Hey Benoit," Angel gloated. "Got wood?"

"Shut up!" he snapped, grabbing for his left wrist.

"You know, I didn't see you signal," Angel informed him. "You always miss the headbutt when you don't signal."

"I signaled," Benoit fumed through clenched teeth.

Just then, Jericho appeared.

"Hey Benoit," he said, crouching beside him. "Are you okay?"

Benoit was still crying out and holding his wrist.

"Told you you'd lose," Angel called out.

Jericho glared at her. "Would you please shut the hell up?" He turned back to Benoit. "I missed it. What happened?"  
"Angle," Benoit muttered. "Son of a bitch."

"Kirk Angel did this?" Jericho cried, glaring up the ramp where Kurt had been. "Piece of shit. Come on, let's get out of here."

They rolled from the ring and Jericho put a supportive arm around Benoit, who slumped against him. Jericho spun to Angel. "Little help?"

Angel just stepped back and raised her hands.

"Five…four…three…two…" she counted.

"I'm okay," Benoit fumed, standing under his own power. "I can walk."

"Okay," Jericho replied. "But we've at least gotta get that arm checked out."

"No," Benoit scowled. "It's fine."

"He wont go to the trainer's room," Angel cut in. "Says it's for pussies."  
Jericho turned to glare at her. "Fine. You go, then."  
"What?" 

"Get an elastic bandage and some of that cooling or heat cream."

"Look, Jericho. I know Benoit. He won't…"

"I don't care. Get it!"  
"Fine!" Angel snapped. "You two go take a shower together. I'll see you in the locker room."

* * * *

Angel stormed into the locker room and thrust the bandage and tube of cream at Jericho. "Here. And just so you know, I'm his manager. I'm not your errand girl."

"It's not for me," Jericho muttered, squeezing some cream from the tube. "Although I'll probably use some of this. It's magic." He turned to Benoit. "Okay, show me that arm. This won't help if it's broken, but I think it's probably only sprained."  
Angel threw her hands onto her hips. "Aw, how sweet. I knew it was only a matter of time before you started holding hands."

Jericho swiveled his head. "Do you think you can shut up?"  
Angel just smiled sweetly until he turned back to Benoit's arm. 

"Sorry about how that stuff smells," she said at last. "But they were all out of edible body paint."

Benoit slammed his foot onto the ground. 

"Kick her ass," he growled at Jericho. "I've had enough of her."

"Now, now, Benoit," Angel taunted. "If Jericho touches me, you know what'll have to happen. And we don't want that, do we?"  
"Right now I don't care," Benoit fumed. "I'm sick of you."  
But Jericho made no move to get up.

"Just ignore her," he advised. "She's just trying to get a rise out of you."

"I know what she's doing," Benoit snapped, pulling his arm away. "That'll do. It's fine."  
"I haven't put the bandage on yet," Jericho frowned. 

"I don't need it," Benoit replied, flicking his arm and hand out to keep it loose.

"Yeah, he's a tough guy," Angel agreed. "He thinks it turns you on."

"Shut up!" Benoit screamed. "Just sit down and shut up! You win tonight, princess, okay? You win!"

"Not yet," Angel muttered, dropping to the ground for yet another set of pushups. "But the night is young."

When she was done with her pushups, she sat down on the bench and started stretching her arms.

"By the way, Benoit," she called out. "Just thought I'd remind you about the punching bag."

"What?"  
"You said we could get a punching bag for the locker room," Angel explained.

"Princess, in a second I'm gonna use your _face_ as a punching bag. I told you to shut the hell up."

Angel just shrugged and continued her stretches. Suddenly, Jericho was in front of her, leaning against the wall with one hand and playing personal space invaders. Somewhat threatened, Angel backed right up against the wall, but he just closed in on her again.

"I've got you all figured out, baby," he said quietly, reaching out his free hand to run a thin spike of her hair between his fingers. "Even more than Benoit does. You might think you're some dark, mysterious, hardcore, bad ass bitch, but I know what you're about. You're not that complex."

"We'll see, Jericho," Angel replied, holding his gaze. She was not going to let him break her down, anymore than she was Benoit.

Finally, he began to walk away. 

"Hey, Jericho," Angel called instantly, before waiting for him to turn back. "I'd take a shower if I were you. You've got BO something chronic, and I hear Benoit likes 'em clean."  
"Shut up!" Benoit screamed before Jericho could reply.

Angel sighed happily, feeling that sweet, gooey sensation she only got when Benoit was truly pissed off. All of the men round here were the same. They might have her with physical strength, but she wasn't going to crumble.

"None of you can beat me," she said quietly. "I've got looks, I've got brains and I can do a mean 'rana. I've got it all."

* * * *

Still fully dressed, Benoit sat back in bed, watching Kurt Angle's match from a week and a half ago. It was a hardcore title match against Kane who, as of the very night Benoit was watching, no longer held that title. Rhyno had beaten him, which was probably the reason for the little whore's over-the-top attitude session. That was the second title win Benoit had stopped her from valeting. She was probably starting to get a complex about it. 

Kane had trounced Angle a week and a half ago, though, just like Benoit was going to do at Backlash. Kurt thought he was so special, forcing a bunch of green wrestlers, probably just out of high school, to submit. Well, Benoit had showed _he_ wasn't green, forcing Angle to tap from the crossface, sprained wrist and all.

'At Backlash I wont have a sprained wrist,' he thought. "At Backlash, Kurt Angle won't have a hope.'

Suddenly, a noise jarred him from his thoughts and he turned to it slowly. The whore was standing there, looking back at him, daring him to speak. She was ready to go out, and she'd gone to far too great an effort. Jeff Hardy was worth it, maybe, but not Test. She didn't even _like_ Test.

Benoit's eyes traveled the length of her body and finally met her gaze. "Congratulations. You actually look like a woman."  
Angel gave him a sarcastic smirk. "I hear your words. But I know what you mean is, congratulations, you look like a hooker."  
"Test will be impressed," Benoit smirked.

"He'd better be," Angel announced, staring deep into Benoit's eyes. "'Cause I'm getting laid tonight and even I'm not willing to stoop that low." She explained herself with a raise of her eyebrows. "Don't wait up. I won't be back tonight."

"Doesn't take all night to degrade yourself," Benoit pointed out, just as she'd turned away.

"Yeah? Well, maybe I want to degrade myself multiple times." And then she was gone.

Benoit sighed and turned back to the TV. He'd thought she was better than that, he really had.

'That's what you get for treating her like a man,' he thought. 'They don't call them the weaker sex for nothing.'

He broke into a smirk as Kane slammed Kurt down at the bottom of the ramp. Thirty-minute ultimate submission match. The whore was right. He loved it!

* * * *

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Test opened the door and Angel jumped on him before he even registered who it was. Startled, he soon figured it out, wrapped an arm around her and carried her into the room. As the door shut, he released her and let her drop to her feet.

"Hi."

"Hi," Angel grinned, grabbing his head and kissing him again.

Test grabbed her sides and pushed her away a little.

"Let me get a look at you."

She stepped back with her hands on her hips, letting him take her in. She was wearing the mother of all tiny red dresses and in her four-inch heels she was over six feet tall, with legs that went on forever.

"That is one hot dress," Test murmured breathily.

"You think?" Angel frowned, trying to pout just like Trish. "Because it's kind of uncomfortable. I think I'd like to get out of it."

Test broke into a grin. "You're something, you know that?"

Angel grinned back, slowly walked up to him and then carefully, deliberately, tangled her body with his. 

"I know," she breathed, lips right in front of his. "Think you can keep up with me?"  
Test responded by kissing her greedily and running his hands up and down her body. Angel deepened the kiss and slowly ran her hands down Test's chest, stopping them at the waistband of his pants. She curled her fingers up inside the bottom of his shirt and, in one quick movement, lifted it as far as she could. Test broke the kiss long enough to shrug off his shirt, then got straight back into it again. Angel grinned and firmly pushed him back onto the bed, then arched her body forward and started kissing down his chest. He slid his hands up, over her ass, up her back, searching for the zip to her dress. He found it and expertly pulled it down. Angel kicked off her dress and they were all over each other again. Test put a hand on her back to break her fall and gently rolled her over. Then he bent his head and started kissing her neck as his hands swept up, over her flat stomach. His lips headed down, as he stopped at the hollows above her collarbone, flicking his tongue out gently, deliberately and his hands cupped her still-covered breasts. 

Angel smiled as she slipped her legs between his, lifted her hands to his head and buried them in his hair. So many wrestlers had long hair – Test, Edge, Christian, Rhyno, Jericho, Bradshaw, Triple H, X-Pac, Matt…Jeff. She wondered if it was Samson and Delilah complex – cut the hair, he loses his strength. But then, the last three Federation champions had been Stone Cold, The Rock and Kurt Angle. No hair, short hair and short hair. She was still pondering this when…

Knock! Knock! Knock! "Room service!"  
"Shit!" Test swore, dropping Angel like a ton of bricks. "I forgot about that."

He jumped to his feet and stepped over to the door, still wearing only his pants.

Angel grinned, but then remembered. Test was proud of his body. He'd probably answer the door totally naked, given the opportunity. Loads of wrestlers probably answered their doors wearing no shirts. She knew that Jeff did, anyway. He'd done it dozens of times to her. 

Angel curled her limbs in front of her as she waited for Test to finish with the room service dude. She absently stared at her hand, then started examining her bright red nails. Not a bad paintjob, she surmised. Considering it was probably the first time she'd even worn nail polish since…since Jeff used to paint them for her. He was really good at it. Better than she was, anyway. It used to kind of creep her out that he wore it, but in the end she'd decided it was actually pretty sexy. She looked up at Test again. He was half out the room, but he had his hand inside, holding the door in place. No nail polish.

'Give him a chance, Angel,' she told herself. 'You can't expect him to be like Jeff. That's not fair. Jeff doesn't give a crap about you. Test at least wants to do you and that's good enough. Besides, you still want to find out about that thing he does with his tongue that supposedly makes him the best lover around. Hang in there, girl.'

"I can't believe I ordered this," Test cried, stepping back into the room and startling Angel. "Hey, you okay?"  
Angel raised her head and smiled at him. "Yeah, it's just a little cold over here without you."  
Test broke into a sexy grin. "Well, we'll definitely have to turn up the heat inhere or something." He set down the bottle and glasses he was holding. "That can wait. You, however…" He jumped onto the bed and Angel cried out as they continued where they'd left off.

"Getting warmer now?" Test asked, planting random kisses anywhere he could reach.

Angel responded by moving her hands to the front of his pants and undoing them. Test kissed her mouth and kicked off her pants, then drifted his hands to her back as he moved his lips down slowly, down her neck, her chest, her stomach. His mouth touched her belly button ring and he ran his tongue over it. He'd never really noticed it before, but now he spent a little more time there, playing with it.

"When'd you get this?" he asked softly. "It's sexy."

Angel smiled and leaned over to kiss the top of his head. "Kat wanted me to get it because Jeff had one. Peer pressure. I think I'll take it out, though."

Test froze.

"No," he said, looking up into her eyes. "Leave it in."  
Angel grinned.

"Yeah, you're right," she murmured, grabbing at his face and pulling it up to meet hers. 

Test bared down on her and kissed her deeply. 

"Angel," he murmured against her lips. "Do you close your eyes when you kiss me?"

"Of course," Angel replied, moving her mouth over his.

"What do you see?" Test went on, before explaining. "Because I see you."

Angel pulled away from him and frowned. "I see you, Test. Of course I see you." She pulled him back in again.

Test's fingers pressed into her shoulders as she kissed him. She'd been convincing, true, but that didn't change one glaring fact. She'd paused too long. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled away. 

"Angel. We can't do this."

Angel wrapped her arms around his neck. "Course we can."  
Test grabbed her face and pushed her gently. "No, we can't."

Angel frowned and folded her arms. "Why the hell not?"  
Test took a deep breath. "It's just the wrong time for us."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Test sighed. Why'd she had to ask him that? Now she was going to get pissed at him.

"You're in love with Jeff Hardy."

"What?" Angel screamed, just as he'd known she would.

"I'm not Jeff," Test said slowly. "And I can't be Jeff. He's the one you want to be with."  
Angel scrunched her face up, suddenly incapable of speech. "What…but…I don't want to be with Jeff. I want to be with you. Why would I want to be with Jeff? How could you even think that? You've seen what he's like. Just…just…why? Why the hell would I want to be with Jeff?"  
"Because you love him," Test said quietly. "And he loves you. And you both know it. I just wish you'd both admit it."  
Angel scowled at him and leaped off the bed.

"You're crazy," she accused.

"Maybe," Test mused. "But I'm also right."

Angel's scowl deepened as she picked up her dress and angrily put it on.

"I don't need this," she spat. "I'm out of here." She stopped and turned back, still scowling. "You know, we could have been great together, Test. I thought we were just gonna hang out and have some fun. That's what I wanted and I thought you wanted it too. But then you had to go and say something stupid and ruin it all. Thanks for nothing." She furiously stepped out of the room, slamming the door after herself.

Test sighed and lay back on the bed. That had gone…as well as could be expected. He'd been meaning to call her on the Jeff situation all night, but she'd just looked so damn hot and then gotten him so damn hot he'd almost let it go. He'd known Jeff and Angel were in love with each other for weeks now, since Jeff had gotten so shitty when he'd caught them hugging. He'd still wanted to sleep with Angel, of course. She was totally hot and incredibly fun to be around. He probably would have done it, too, except for one thing. He'd gotten to know her. She tried to hide herself, most people around here did, but even the little bits and pieces she let slip to the surface were totally incredible. Her bright eyes, her outstanding body, her great tits…and then there was the other stuff, too. Her sense of adventure, her quick mind, her smart mouth. The way she never, ever backed down from a challenge. The way she stubbornly always had to save face, like right now. 

Angel wasn't the kind of girl you had a one-night stand with. She was the kind of girl you fell in love with. And Test just wasn't ready to do that. Not yet, anyway. Not after everything that had happened to him in the past. He could just see the Angel train, running down the Stephanie track, heading in the right direction, right direction, right direction, only to turn off just before it reached his station. Only Angel would turn off to Jeff, not Hunter as Steph had done.

Test didn't know how things would work out for Angel and Jeff. If they got back together, great. If they didn't, well, that was great, too. In the future, Test would be more than willing to hook up with Angel. Burt she had to get over Jeff first. And that was going to take some time and space. And if giving Angel time and space was what it would take to stop Test from being hurt, well, he was prepared to give it. He'd been down that road before. There was no way he was going there again.

* * * *

Angel strode purposefully through the room after discovering, much to her disgust, that Benoit was still watching his tapes.

"Don't even start with me."

"Back already?" Benoit asked coolly.

Angel stopped and spun furiously. "I said, don't start with me."

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "What, Boy Wonder wasn't quite so wonderful?"

Angel glared at him furiously before replying. "What the hell do you want from me?"  
Benoit just cocked his head and stared at her, so she went on.

"You always say you'll tell me, but you never do. So, I wanna know. What do you want from me?"

"You wanna know?" Benoit asked, eyebrows raised. "You really wanna know?"

Angel nodded slowly.

"Okay," Benoit said thoughtfully. "Tell me the truth. Are you afraid of Rhyno?"

"Yes," Angel said softly.

"How about Kurt Angle?"  
"Yes."

"Steven Richards?"

"Yes."

"Buh Buh Ray Dudley?"  
"Yes."

"Triple H?"

"Yes."

"Kane?"

"Yes. What are you trying to…"

"What about me, princess? Are you afraid of me?"  
"No."

"Why not?' Benoit demanded.

Angel shrugged. "I don't know."  
"You don't know? You don't know? Come on, princess. There's gotta be a reason, Why aren't you afraid of me? Why don't you see me and tremble like you do when you see Rhyno? He's supposed to be your friend. I can't stand the sight of you and yet he's the one you fear. Why? I want to know why! Tell me!"

Angel raised her eyebrows. "That's it? You keep me around because you want me to fear you? Of all the pathetic things I've heard, that's gotta be the weakest. Please. And you say _I'm_ the child." She turned to head for her room.

"Stop right there and turn around!" Benoit screamed, so she did. "Never turn your back on me! Do you hear me? Never. Why? Why don't you fear me? You've seen what I'm capable of. What the hell is the matter with you?"

Angel folded her arms and smirked at him. 

"You wanna know?" she mocked. "You really wanna know?"  
Benoit just glared at her, breathing heavily. 

"I'm not afraid of you," Angel said slowly. "Because you have no balls."

"Excuse me?" Benoit shouted.

"How could I fear you, Benoit?" Angel asked. "When you've never been able to give me what I deserve? Even since the moment we first me, when I didn't have to see your hideous face every day, I've been goading you and goading you and goading you. And yet you do nothing to me. Everything I've gotten, every time I've been hurt, I've deserved it. When I got gored by Rhyno, I deserved it. When I got punched by Christian, I deserved it. When I got beaten up by the Radicalz, I deserved it. Pedigree, Angle Slam, Steven kick, even that ringbell to the head. I deserved it all. But everything I did to deserve all that is nothing compared with what I've done to you. I've been an evil, manipulative bitch. I know it, because I was doing it on purpose. I push you and push you and push you and I deserve a punch in the face, but I know you'll never do it. You don't have the balls. And it has nothing to do with the fact that if you hurt me you have to let me go. That's why I'm always looking for people to fight you, to win me. Because I know you'll never hurt me. You never could and you never will. I don't know why. You do it to everyone else. Maybe I'm special."

Benoit was fuming it her.

"You're not special," he scowled. "You're nothing!"

"Nothing _you_ can stop," Angel grinned. "Come on, Benoit. Why don't you get up and take a shot at me, huh? We'll both get what we want. Just hit me, Benoit! Get your ass up and hit me! Come on! Make me fear you! Grow some balls! Hit me!"  
Benoit got madder and madder, but still he didn't move.

Angel nodded slowly. "Yeah," she murmured. "That's what I thought." She turned to enter her room.

Suddenly she was grabbed from behind and she flew through the air. Her back slammed against the wall and she slid to the ground. Benoit stood over her, flexing his muscles, his hands twitching, waiting, ready. At first Angel was startled, but then she slowly broke into a smirk and got to her feet, right in Benoit's face. In her heels she stood taller than him and she let him know all about it. She reached out and grabbed him by the face, staring threateningly into his eyes.

"You're pathetic," she said with a shake of her had. "And I might be your slave, but you, Benoit. You're my bitch."

She shoved him back onto the bed, then headed into her room and shut the door.

Benoit bounced furiously to his feet, glaring at the closed door. He let out a trail of expletives as he ran about the room in a fury. He picked up a lamp and threw it against the wall. It made a satisfying shattering sound. Therapeutic, but not good enough. He wanted that lamp to be her head. He wanted to see her shatter, dammit. 

"Goddamn piece of shit bitch!" he screamed, picking up the TV. He threw it as hard as he could and it yanked the cord from its socket and hit the ground with a thud, a smash and a buzz. He'd killed it, killed the TV. But it wasn't her, it's never be her.

He couldn't hurt her. He'd always known it. But now it was worse. Now she knew, and he knew that she knew. He didn't know the reason either, any more than she did, but now he knew the facts. He couldn't hit her unless she feared him and she wouldn't fear him unless he hit her. 

Benoit raced across the room and slammed his body into her door. He gripped the doorframe and pressed his cheek against the wood, trying to slow his breathing.

"Never, never, never, never," he murmured rhythmically. "Never, bitch, never! You will never beat me! Never!"

Still fuming, he ran a hand over his hair and wiped the sweat from his face. 

"Never," he repeated, quiet again. "Never."

But even as the words left his mouth, he knew he could no longer use them with certainty. Now, nothing was certain.


	42. The Impossible Dream

Title: The Impossible Dream

Rating: Um, you decide. Contains language, some violence, adult themes and a bit of manipulation and angst (these are a few of my favourite things ;-P )

Spoilers: Heat on the date given, but no actual matches

Disclaimer: I own Angel and Dave the sleaze. All others are owned by Vinnie!

Summary: With Test out of the picture, Angel must re-evaluate, with or without mocking from her subconscious.

A/N: This chapter's for Shadow, who likes Trish :-) More dedications to follow in other chapters. Oh yeah, I haven't posted my email addy on my profile because I've had virus issues recently, but if you want to email me, it's: lyndelle@chariot.net.au Hopefully, the only people who find it buried all the way in here are ones who actually like me!!!

SUNDAY NIGHT HEAT, APRIL 22ND, 2001

Angel was not in a good mood. Like it wasn't enough that Test had refused to sleep with her – Test, who hit on anything in a skirt. It wasn't even enough that Benoit kept kicking the crap out of her in training – always legal, didn't mean it didn't hurt. He punished her relentlessly. Well, accusing a guy of having no balls would do that. But now, sitting across from him in the hotel restaurant, she found she couldn't even look at him. Not that looking at him was usually a pleasurable experience, but now it was an impossibility. She'd known it would happen sooner or later, hoped to God it wouldn't, but it was inevitable and had been since the time of Boyd in high school. 

Last night, she'd had what could only be described as an incredibly raunchy sex dream. One of those ones where you woke up flushed, breathing heavily, with all your senses on overload. Goosebumps, man. Goosebumps. The type of dream that made you feel goood, helped you get your day off to the right start. That was, of course, unless said sex dream starred Chris Benoit. Then it wasn't good. Not good at all.

So she just sat there, staring at the table, refusing to look up, refusing to speak until those horrible mental images could be erased forever. And because she wasn't talking, he wasn't talking and there was silence. Pure, cold silence. The type of silence Angel usually couldn't stand; she had to break it, but not this time. She had other things on her mind. Awful, nauseating, unbearable things. So it was silent.

"Angel!" Suddenly a set of arms were around her. "How are you?"

"Hey Trish," Angel said sullenly.

"Hi Chris!" Trish cried cheerfully. "Hey, can I join you guys?"  
"Sure," Angel replied before Benoit could respond. Anything to take her mind off what was making it hard to even consider eating.

"Great! I'll be right back. I'll just go order and make sure my food comes out the same time as yours." She walked off with that self-confident swagger knowing she had the eye of every man in the place. Every man except Benoit. He was glaring at Angel.

Angel finally looked up and revulsion coursed through her veins. He was such an ugly, evil, putrid piece of shit. Why the hell did her subconscious have to mock her that way? It was just…just _wrong_.

"I have to put up with Jericho," she said simply, before looking at the table again.

Benoit said nothing. He just kept glaring at her.

Soon, Trish returned, pulled up a chair and seated herself, all with calculated dramatic flair. She turned straight to Benoit.

"Hi Chris! Oh wait, I already said that, didn't I? Sometimes I can be such a ditz. You know what? I just love that you and Chris Jericho have decided to team up and fly the Canadian flag. On behalf of all the women fans, I'd just like to thank you, because you know what it's got us all thinking?"

"What?" Benoit asked impatiently.

Trish grinned, leaned over and delicately whispered in his ear. 

Benoit's eyebrows shot up; then he blinked heavily and glared over at Angel again.

Trish giggled. "And that can't be a bad thing, can it?" Her hand slipped from in front of his ear to his shoulder. "Ooh! You're just like a rock, aren't you? Wow! Can you flex your bicep for me? I just want to touch it, to feel it. Please?"

Benoit slowly swiveled his head to stare at Trish. Then he carefully, deliberately reached over and removed her hand from his shoulder before getting to his feet. He reached for his wallet and pulled out a few notes, then slammed them down on the table in front of Angel.

"Get mine to go," he ordered, before leaving without another word.

"Bye Chris!" Trish cried, giving a little wave and watching him go. She slightly tilted her head. "Hey, Angel. Look at this! He has a really fine ass!"

Angel frowned at her. Trish was a mixed blessing. She'd gotten rid of Benoit beautifully, but now she had Angel thinking about Benoit's ass. Not good, not good at all.

Trish grinned over at Angel. "Chris is a little moody, isn't he?"  
"A little?" Angel asked, eyebrows raised.

"Oh," Trish frowned. "I know that was meant to be a joke, but you look so sad. Also, your hair's kind of flat. What's the matter?"

Angel sighed. "Nothing."

"It's a man, isn't it?" Trish asked sympathetically. "Did something happen with your mystery man?"  
Angel nodded solemnly. "It didn't work out."

"Oh," Trish pouted. "Who was he?"  
Angel shook her head. "No one important. We just…he didn't understand me."

Trish stared at her despairingly. "Okay, we need to cheer you right up. You should come with me tonight."

Angel frowned. "What's going on tonight?"

"I'm hosting Heat! Isn't that cool? It's gonna be so much fun. We're gonna play a dating game and the winner gets a date with me and some guaranteed Stratus-faction. Hey, you could have like…the runner up. I'm sure he wouldn't be too upset and it'd help take your mind off…whoever that loser was who dumped you."

Angel slammed her face down on the table. 

"Oh, Angel, no!" Trish cried, putting an arm around her. "I'm so sorry. Come on, come watch me host Heat. It's my first time doing it alone. It'd mean a lot to me if you'd come…and if you don't like any of the dating game guys then I'm sure there'll be plenty in the club who want to meet you. You might even find the man of your dreams. Come on. Please?"  
Angel looked up at her and gave a small smile. "Can I say…probably?"  
"Probably?" Trish frowned.

"Well, I have to see if Benoit wants a match and if he does, I have to set it up and then valet for him. But since I have a Backlash match for him now he'll probably just want to watch videos, so I'll be able to go."

"Videos, huh?" Trish grinned. 

"I know," Angel sighed. "Tapes of Kurt Angle's old matches. He watches them all day. I swear they're his version of porn."  
Trish giggled. "Does he wear pants when he watches them?"

"I've never really looked," Angel replied sharply, cringing because now she was picturing Benoit without pants. "But he broke a hotel TV the other day, so I don't know what that means."

"Intense!" Trish cried. "Oh, thank you!" She gave the waiter a broad grin as he set out the meals.

"Can I have that one to go?" Angel asked as he puzzled over Benoit's plate.

"Sure," he nodded, taking it back to the kitchen. 

"Tonight'll be fun, I swear," Trish said to Angel. "You should come by and borrow one of my outfits. We'll have you looking so hot no man will resist you."

Angel raised her eyebrows. When Trish said hot, you had to hear skanky. But oh well, it would just be for one night. Give Test a little shot of what he was missing. Let him eat his damn heart out.

* * * *

"Your food, master," Angel said, setting his bag down on the bed.

"Thank you," Benoit replied absently, without turning around. 

"You really should give Trish a chance," Angel told him. "She's a lot of fun."

"So I've heard."

Angel grinned. "So, you want a match tonight or are you just gonna watch your tapes?"

"Tapes."

"So I can go out then?"  
"I don't care what you do, so long as you shut up."

"Cool, 'cause Trish is hosting Heat and she wants me to go with her."

Benoit turned around with a frown on his face. "Trish Stratus is hosting Heat? What the hell is she? She gets asked? What is that?"  
Angel gave a grin. "Aw, you wanna host Heat, Benoit?"  
"No," Benoit replied coldly. "It'd just be nice to know what qualifies you as a host."

"A personality, I believe," Angel said with a thoughtful nod. "So you're doomed forever."

Benoit glared at her. "Princess?"

"What?"  
"Get out of my sight."

Angel grinned. "See you later. Oh, and don't wait up."

Her smart-ass façade began to crumble as she collected a few things from her room, then headed off to meet Trish. Snappy comebacks could only get you so far when you were picturing someone naked.

"I'll hang out with Trish some more," Angel decided. "And possibly even Jericho. Anything to stop the recurring curse of the too much time together sex dream."

She knocked on Trish's hotel room door.

"Just a minute!" cried the cheerful voice. The door opened. "Angel!" Trish looked her up and down. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Why don't you ever wear short skirts? If we got you in one of those and a killer set of shoes, you would be totally hot! What do you think?"

Angel couldn't help but smile. "Sure."  
"Great!" Trish grinned. "You can borrow one of mine. You're taller than me so it'll be so short on you!" She clapped her hands together and eyed Angel thoughtfully. "I think I have a smaller waist than you, but you don't have the hips, so it should work just fine. Come on in. When I'm done with you, you won't even recognize yourself!"

Angel nodded. At this stage in her life, that sounded like a pretty great idea.

* * * *

Angel sat alone in a booth in WWF New York, nonchalantly sipping a Coke and watching Trish onstage trying to choose between three dating game contestants. Well, at least one of them seemed to be having a good time. 

Angel wondered whether Trish would still be smiling once she saw the specimens of mankind the powers that be had selected for the game. They were all cute enough, just not anything special – not considering the competition constantly inhabiting the WWF locker rooms. Three young studs. A skinny black guy, a chubby white guy and another white guy – burly, not chubby, with a well-kept goatee. No prizes for guessing which one Trish would choose. 

Angel was just sipping her Coke – damn WWF New York for carding and her being nine months shy of twenty-one – and deciding whether skinny black guy or chubby white guy was more her scene, when she heard a low, alcohol affected voice.

"Hey baby, you look like you could use some company."

'And you look like you could use some coffee and a couple of decent lines,' Angel thought, but instead she looked up at the guy and said, "I'm fine. Thanks."

"You bet you're fine, baby," he replied, gazing at her lecherously, pushing her down the booth and squeezing in next to her. He was twenty-something, possibly thirty-something, normal build, no muscles, big ears, balding. She logged this description in her mind and decided she could take him.

"Actually, I'm just holding this booth for my friends."

The guy kept moving in on her. "You say that, but what I see is one drink and one you. I'm not that bad at math."

"They've gone to get drinks," Angel insisted.

"Oh well," the guy shrugged, putting an arm around her. "I'll just have to look after you until they get back. I'm Dave," he said softly. 

Angel reached for her drink, ready to throw it in his face if he tried anything. She said nothing, she just started praying he'd leave.

"And you are?" he prompted.

Angel slowly turned to face him, a superior smirk on her face. Oh yeah, she could take him. 

"Way out of your league," she said sweetly.

He looked taken aback. "Out of my league? Baby, I could show you a few things you've only dreamed about."  
"Oh really?" Angel asked. "Tell me, you're a wrestling fan, right?"  
"Well, sure. Isn't everybody?"  
Angel nodded and stared deep into his eyes. "Then you've heard of Chris Benoit and Steve Blackman, right?"

"Sure. They're the bomb."

"Dangerous, too, huh? Let me tell you something, Dave. I spend about four hours in the gym with the two of them every morning. Do you know what that means?"

Dave eyed her incredulously. "You're full of shit, bitch."

"Actually, no. It means I can and will kick your ass if you don't remove it from this booth in the next five seconds." She glared at him threateningly.

"You're bluffing," he shrugged. "You want me."  
"Five, four, three…"

"We both know you're just playing hard to get. Look at how you're dressed. You want it, baby."

"Two, one. Okay, don't say I didn't warn you."  
Dave leaned right into her. "What are you gonna do, baby? Whip me?"

"No. I only whip people I like." With those words and a saccharine sweet smile, she hit Dave with a knife-edge chop to his chest. He fell back, clutching his chest and trying to reinflate his lungs. Angel leaned back over the next both and kicked out, forcing Dave off his seat and onto the ground. He clumsily found his feet and glared at her as she stared back expressionless, lips twitching slightly.

"Want some more?" she asked, only slightly ruing the fact that Trish's 'I wanna be screwed' outfit had no space to conceal her fighting sticks so she was going in unarmed. It didn't matter. Benoit didn't like her carrying the sticks anyway.

"First thing you gotta learn. Your body is a weapon. All these guys think they're so damn hardcore. Real fighters don't need weapons."

Occasionally, very occasionally, Benoit was right. 

Dave leaped at her, fists flying, but she was ready, ducking forward, then flipping her back upwards so he flew through the air, over her booth and into the next one. Angel heaved in a huge breath and peered over the partition. Dave was facedown in some dude's prime rib while dude screamed at him and dude's date wailed about getting ketchup on her sparkly halter-top. Angel grinned to herself, clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and ducked back down into her own booth. She had a feeling Dave wouldn't be back, but if he was, she'd take him again, no problem. 

Suddenly famished, she tracked down a waiter and ordered, of all things, pasta with a side salad. 

"Goddamn Benoit," she muttered, tuning back into the show again. Surely Trish had chosen by now and was well on the way to giving Mr. Goatee man the night of his life. She raised her eyebrows. Apparently Trish hadn't wanted to disappoint anyone, so all three were getting Stratusfaction guaranteed. Angel had a feeling that, while the show was officially done, it'd be a long time before Trish was ready to go back to the hotel.

"Great," Angel sighed. "Now I don't even get the rejects and the best I can do for myself is delightful Dave. It's all good."

She stirred her Coke gloomily and waited for her food to arrive.

'You know your life sucks when all you have to hope for is a damn cooked meal.'

Suddenly, she heard another male voice with a New York accent.

"Hey, is this seat taken?"  
Angel scowled. "Hell yes, it's taken. It's taken by me and if you try to even sit your ass down I won't even hesitate before I put my stiletto up it. Kapiche?"  
He let out a chuckle. "You think you can kick my ass? Boy, have you got yourself an attitude since we met in the dead of winter."  
Angel smiled sheepishly. "Hey Tazz. Take a seat."  
Tazz grinned back. "Well, I dunno about that. You sure you ain't gonna turn and kick my ass?"

"Sorry," Angel shrugged. "Thought you were someone else."  
Tazz frowned. "Oh Devil. Some guys round here been giving you trouble? Just point 'em out, and me and a couple guys'll make sure they ain't gonna trouble you or anyone else again."

Angel grinned. "It's okay. I can take care of myself." She shrugged her shoulders, showing off her toned arms.

Tazz nodded approvingly. "You been working hard, little Devil. I don't doubt you can hold your own."

Angel held his gaze and spoke softly. "Anywhere, anytime."  
Tazz gave a little laugh. "See, there's the sassy little Devil I know. There is something different about you now. You're harder now, tougher."  
Angel nodded. "You know it."

"So Devil, why you sitting down here all on your own?"

"I'm not alone," Angel shrugged, slowly moving her hand along the table towards Tazz's, which were clasped in front of him. "You're here."

"Well, yeah, Little Devil. You got that straight." He cocked his head and studied her profile for a while as she set her gaze straight ahead, knowing he was staring and hoping he liked what he saw. 

"You don't give nothing away, do you?" Tazz asked, somewhat admiringly.

Angel formed a wistful smile. "Nothing's for free."

"Yeah, you got that right," Tazz frowned and watched her some more.

Angel kept cool, figuring that dark and mysterious hardcore bitch would win Tazz more than any of her alternate personalities.

"Hey," Tazz said at last. "You want me to leave?"

Angel spun quickly. "No. Stay. Please. I mean, I know I'm not the best company right now, but it's good to see a friendly face."

Tazz gave an ironic smile. "Friendly? You've been in the WWF for months and you still got your heart set on making friends? Little Devil, you should know, there ain't no friends in wrestling."

Angel raised her eyebrows and held his gaze.

"Well," she said softly, running a single finger down Tazz's cheek and blinking languidly. "We don't have to be friends."

Suddenly, Tazz burst out laughing, startling Angel. Humiliated, she jumped back into the corner of the booth and folded her arms protectively across her chest.

"Little Devil," Tazz chuckled. "What are you doing?"  
Angel scowled and refused to meet his gaze. "Nothing, just forget it. Forget it. Forget it."  
Tazz still laughed, his face filled with confusion. "Why are you hitting on me?"

Angel took a deep breath. "I wasn't hitting on you, I was trying…look, forget it. Forget I said anything. Forget I said you could sit down. Forget it all." She slammed her head down on the table and waited for the humiliation to flow away.

"Don't get me wrong," Tazz told her. "I'm flattered, but I don't get it, Devil. This ain't you."

"You don't know me," Angel murmured, head still down.

"No, I don't, but right now I don't think even _you_ know you."

Bam. It hit home. "Look, I said forget it, okay?"

Tazz frowned down at her. "Devil, what's happened to you?"  
Angel sighed. "It's called rock bottom and it's not a wrestling move."

"Yeah, I see that, but why?"

"I have no friends…"

"No friends in wrestling," Tazz reminded her.

"I have no life…"

"Wrestling's your life, right?" Tazz asked. 

"I'm stuck with Benoit…"

"Benoit's a cool guy."

Angel raised her head long enough to give Tazz a sharp glare before lowering it again. "I'm a prisoner."

"Only if you think you are."

"What?" Angel cried, giving him the full version of her glare. "What the hell do you know?"

Tazz wasn't intimidated. "I know this. I know I came over here and sat down, wanting to talk to the sassy little Devil I ain't talked to in some time. And we were talking nice, right, talking normal. But then you got this look in your eyes like something clicked. And the next thing I know you're hitting on me. So, tell me, Devil. What's the deal? I ain't gonna hurt you or nothing. I just wanna know."

Angel sighed. This time she was going to have to be open. 

"I need your help," she said solemnly. "I need you to fight Benoit. I need you to set me free."

"Fight Benoit?" Tazz cried. "I got no issues with Benoit."

Angel gripped Tazz's hands. 

"Tazz," she pleaded. "I need your help."

Tazz was quiet for a moment. "No. No, you don't need my help, Devil."

"I wouldn't be asking if I didn't," Angel said evenly.

Tazz sighed sympathetically and put a heavy arm around her. "When I was growing up in Red Hook, if there was one thing I learned it's this. You are the only person you can count on. Don't stick your neck out for no one else, and don't expect them to do the same for you. If you can't look after yourself, you got no place being on the streets in the first place. The WWF's just the same as Red Hook, Devil. Alliances, hell, I know they happen. I just had me a good one with the APA, you know. But they don't last. So you gotta be sure of you. You gotta have your own back. If people know you don't need no help, they'll usually help you, see what I mean?"  
Angel sighed. "I have tried to do this alone. But I'm starting to learn that I can't."

"Then maybe it's time for you to go home," Tazz said.

"Home?" Angel frowned.

"Yeah. I don't wanna act like a jerk, but if you can't take it, you shouldn't be here. It's a tough business and if you're not tough enough, that's okay, but you shouldn't stick around."

"I'm tough," Angel told him.

"Yeah, I know. But you have to tell yourself that until you got yourself believing it. And then you'll realize you don't need me. You don't need no one. You think Chyna runs around asking people for help? Never! So you don't need it either. Okay, Devil?"  
Angel sighed. He didn't get it, but there was just no getting through to some people.

"Okay," she replied sullenly.

Tazz smiled and pressed his hand against her chin. "We're tight, right, Little Devil? I mean, we ain't friends or nothing, but we're tight."

Angel gave a small smile. "You bet."

Tazz smiled back. "Hang in there, kid. We need a whole lot more of you around. I'll catch you later, okay?"

"Okay," Angel nodded as Tazz stood and left the booth. 

Angel watched him go, shaking her head slowly. Another one had bitten the dust. She was running out of options. But still, in the back of her mind were her three friends, Edge, Christian and Rhyno. They could make it okay. They had never, ever tried to cross her or tried to put one over on her. Since day one, Edge had been sweet to her and had wanted to be a part of her life. She knew she could count on the three of them. And somewhere, amongst them, there had to be a winner. The tag champs and the hardcore champ. She was sure they'd fight for her. All she had to do was ask.

************************************************************************

A/N: Sorry about the lack of updates yesterday. I'm heading into the nitty-gritty of university semester so I'm pretty busy. I'll still try to update at least three times a week, so check back often, I might surprise you. And femalephenom (who has a very very cool name): This is far from finished, plenty of twists in store before then ;-P


	43. Up The Wall

Title: Up The Wall

Warnings (I like this better than rating, since most of this section will be rated wither R or PG-13 and I can never tell which): Adult themes, language, a bit of angst, some violence

Spoilers: For the date given, as well as a bit from Survivor Series '99 (I know how to rent videos, yay!)

Summary: Welcome to ROCK-CLIMBING IS JERICHO! Hehe, proper summary - Angel spends the day with the Ayatollah of Rock and Rollah and the night helping out a friend.

A/N: Look, here I am, a day before I predicted…only because I got an extension on that assignment. This is one of my very favourite chapters… because I was obsessed with rock climbing at the time…but mostly because it takes Angel out of her comfort zone. Face it, she hates her Benoit situation, but at least she knows what's what. Jericho's a completely different prospect.

Dedication: To a fellow Jerichoholic, and fabulous review writer, Andrea Hardy-Helms-Jericho…and also because she has great taste in men, lol! And go check out her new fic "Everything Changes". It's about Lita and it totally rocks!

RAW IS WAR, APRIL 23RD, 2001

Angel left the bathroom en route to her own room, daring to give Benoit a passing glance. Last night had been sex-dream free and the images were already starting to fade away to nothing. And that, as well as the twenty-minute shower she'd just taken, had put her in a semi-decent mood. As usual, Benoit's eyes were glued to the TV.

"Hands were I can see 'em," she called out antagonistically.

Benoit raised his head and his eyebrows. "You got a problem?"

Angel shrugged. "Not a new one, anyway." She peered past him and focused on the TV. "More Kurt? Don't you ever get sick of the sight of him?"

Benoit didn't even bother to respond.

"What match is it? I don't know that other guy."

"Kurt's first match," Benoit replied without turning around. "Survivor Series '99."

"Who's the other guy?"  
"Shawn Stasiak."

"As in Stan the Man?" Angel questioned.

"It's his son."

"Oh, okay," Angel nodded, before breaking into a grin. "Look at them. They're both just skin cancer waiting to happen, aren't they? A tanning bed session gone horribly wrong. A couple of turkeys just fresh from the…"

"Princess?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut your damn mouth."  
Angel grinned and perched on the edge of the bed as the tiny TV fighters went through the motions.

"Aren't you leaving?" Benoit asked, his back still turned.

"Nope," Angel replied. "I thought I'd hang out with you for a bit and watch pork roast and melanoma compare tans."

Benoit just ignored her.

"So, who wins?" she asked after awhile.

"If you can shut your damn mouth for a couple of minutes, maybe we'll find out," Benoit replied testily. 

Angel grinned but watched quietly for a while.

"You know, I don't understand why you spend so much time watching tapes anyway. You should be in the gym. I mean, a thirty-minute ultimate submission match, that's gotta take a lot out of you. You should make sure you're ready physically and not just…mentally."

Benoit turned and smirked at her. "Princess. Who's coaching who?"

Angel just stared at him indignantly.

"Exactly," Benoit nodded, turning back around. "When you have a match to prepare for, you can do things your way."

"Maybe I'd have a match if I could get away from you," Angel muttered.

Benoit let out a low laugh and she scowled and settled in to watch the rest of the match.

"Damn, Kurt won. I was barracking for the feral guy in the snazzy neon hot pants. Day-Glo orange always was my favorite color. Hey, what are you doing?" she cried as Benoit clicked the remote control, stopping Val Venis in mid-entrance.

"The match is finished. I'm putting on the next one."

"But I was watching that!"  
Benoit looked up from his pile of tapes with a smirk. "That's just too bad, isn't it?"  
Angel sighed. "I really don't see what the point is. You watched all these tapes before Wrestlemania. You know every last move. You know how Kurt puts together an attack, how he thinks when he needs a reversal. You know it all." She broke off. "Whatever. I'm wasting my breath. What's the next installment in the best of Kurt Angle?"

Benoit slowly rose to his feet, then threw the remote so it hit her hard in the chest. She caught it as it fell to the bed and frowned up at him.

"Where are you going?"  
Benoit just shook his head and walked slowly to the door. "Lunch is at twelve. Make sure you're there."  
Angel smirked at his retreating form. "Cardiovascular. That's what you wanna work on. Then you'll be all set."

The only response she got was the slamming of the door.

* * * *

After lunch, Angel was again on her way to her room when there was a knock at the door. She turned to Benoit and immediately scowled. He was already settled in for a tape viewing session and obviously wasn't going to answer the door.

Angel shook her head slowly. It was naptime, dammit. And she needed every minute she could get. She got up at six freaking AM for up to six hours of training and often, particularly on show nights, they weren't back at the hotel until well after midnight. She needed her beauty sleep. Not that Benoit needed to know that, of course. As far as he was concerned, she just went to her room because she wasn't interested in his tapes. And if that's what he wanted to think, it was fine with her.

She let out a deep sigh and headed for the door. Her scowl just deepened when she saw who it was.

"Benoit, it's Jericho," she muttered, turning to head for her room and her bed.

Jericho grabbed her arm and she spun defiantly.

"Actually, sister, I came to talk to you."

Angel gave him an indignant look. "Make it quick. This is the only me time I have and I intend using it."

Jericho smirked at her. "Sorry, baby. Change in plans. Go get yourself into one of those cute little gym outfits, 'cause you are one privileged little girl. You, baby, will be spending the day with Y2J."

"No thanks," Angel said evenly, turning away but noticing he still held her arm. "Can you let me go? 'Cause I hate to burst your bubble, but you just happen to be the second to last person I'd ever…ever want to spend the day with." She shot a pointed glance at Benoit for added emphasis.

Jericho still smirked. "Oh, you're coming, baby."  
"The hell I am!" Angel cried, wrenching her arm away.

"Go with him," Benoit growled suddenly.

"Excuse me?" Angel cried.

Benoit slowly turned from the TV and glared at Angel.

"I said go with Jericho," he said slowly.

Angel cocked her head to the side. "Is that an order?"

Benoit solemnly held her gaze. "Go with Jericho."

Angel threw her arms to her sides.

"Fine," she muttered, before trudging to her room with a shake of her head. She mumbled under her breath as she pushed the door open. "But if I'm grumpy tonight, we all know whose fault it is."

* * * *

Jericho drove too fast. Like that was a big surprise. It wasn't as though Angel was a Sunday driver, but she literally had to hold on for dear life as Jericho's rental car navigated the Denver streets. And yet she was almost prepared to stake her life on the fact he'd never had a speeding ticket. He was charmed like that.

And that damn music – if you could call it that. Angel was a fan of most styles, but not heavy metal, and this made most metal sound like the freaking White Album. Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. Sneaking a sideways glance at Jericho, who was concentrating hard on not getting them killed, she reached out and turned down the volume. Jericho's hand was immediately on hers, pushing it away and restoring the sound to its original two billion decibels. As soon as he removed his hand, Angel's was there again and Jericho immediately turned it up again. This went on about four more times until Jericho finally turned to glare at her.

"You're starting to piss me off."

"What?" Angel cried, putting a hand to her ear. "I can't hear you."

Jericho rolled his eyes and turned back to the road. Two seconds later, the volume was down again. Suddenly, Jericho threw both hands down to the stereo and Angel leaped back into her seat as the car lurched forward. The car was no longer going straight.

"Jericho!" Angel screamed piercingly, causing him to grab the wheel and set them right again. She sat back in her seat and tried to slow her breathing.

"What's the matter, baby?" Jericho laughed. "Did I scare you?"  
Angel folded her arms across her chest. "No."

"Yeah, well maybe you'll think twice before you mess with my sounds again, okay?"

"Sounds," Angel scoffed. "What the hell is that shit anyway?"  
"That shit," Jericho replied. "Is my favorite band."  
"Sorry?" Angel asked, feigning deafness again. "I can't hear you over the best of Steve Blackman's trashcan concertos."

Jericho gave an ironic smile, but reached down and slightly, very slightly, decreased the volume. "I said it's my favorite band, Fozzy."  
"Really? 'Cause it sounds like a bunch of alley cats got in a fight in a homewares store and trashed the place."  
Jericho grinned. "You know, that wasn't up to your usual best."

Angel shrugged. "Maybe I'd be wittier if I could hear myself think. Where are we going, anyway? You're not gonna knock me out and marry me in Vegas like Triple H and Stephanie, are you?"

"Maybe," Jericho deadpanned. "Or maybe I'll just choke you out and dump you in the river."  
"Sounds good. And hey, if I go to hell, at least now you've given me a preview of the background music."  
Jericho grinned. "You don't like me, do you?"  
"Not at all," Angel replied without hesitation. "No, seriously, Jerky. Where we headed?"

"According to Benoit," Jericho started. "You have the upper body strength of a four-year-old."

Angel scowled at the mention of Benoit's name. "Someone should teach Benoit the physical differences between men and women."

"A four year old _girl_," Jericho informed her.

"Fair enough. So, where we going?"  
Jericho grinned. "You'll find out."

Angel nodded and tried to ignore the so-called music as it crippled her mind. "Benoit put you up to this, didn't he? He told you I was giving him shit about his tapes and asked you to take me away, so he could watch Kurt Angle and play with himself in peace. That's what happened, isn't it?"  
"As delightful as you make that sound, no. This was my idea."

"Really? 'Cause I see what he gets out of this, but what about you? You're getting me out of the way while he gets hot over another man. I mean, he's supposed to be your boyfriend."

Jericho formed a snide grin and abruptly spun the wheel, jerking the car into a parking lot. Angel gripped the tops of her thighs and did her best not to crap herself. Jericho screeched to a halt, perfectly parked, and shut off the engine.

"While I have enjoyed this banter we have going on, baby, it's go time."

Angel gave him a wary glance and undid her seatbelt as he reached up, pulled his shades from the sunvisor and put them on.

"I get recognized," he announced, giving Angel an ironic smile. "It comes with the territory."  
Angel rolled her eyes and jumped out of the car, then waited for him to do the same. He carefully put on his jacket, fixed his hair in the mirror and climbed out, locked up and eyed Angel expectantly.

She looked him up and down. Jacket by Tommy Hilfiger, hiding a black T-shirt and shiny leather pants. It was an ambitious choice of outfits, but Jericho pulled it off. Still, shiny leather pants in the middle of a Monday? Please. Angel caught Jericho's gaze, lowered his eyes to his pants, then made eye contact again.

"And you don't at all make yourself conspicuous," she muttered sarcastically.

Jericho gave a grin and placed a hand on her back. "Come on."

She shrank away from his touch but followed him into a large building.

"Rock climbing?" Angel cried incredulously. "What, I send you up the wall so much you figured you'd do the same for me?"

Jericho grinned and stepped up to the counter. "Something like that." Angel held back and after a moment, Jericho turned to stare at her. "I don't know what that thing you have going on with Benoit is, but I'm not paying for you."

Angel held his gaze. "Which of us wants to be here?"

Frustrated, Jericho muttered something under his breath and turned back to the counter. Angel smirked at his back. Manipulation was fun. 

Jericho turned back to her with an armload of ropes, harnesses and other gear, still looking pretty pissed off.

Angel smiled sweetly at him. "What? It's not as though you can't afford it."  
Jericho thrust the equipment at her. "Suit up."

Angel stared at him dumbly. "Aren't you…?"  
Jericho raised his eyebrows. "Unless you'd rather go back to the hotel gym and do four hundred chin ups."

Angel pouted and yanked a harness away from him.

"How do you do this?" she asked in a rare moment of weakness.

It didn't go unnoticed by Jericho.

"Hold still a moment," he said gently, strapping her in. "There, you're all set."  
Angel frowned and stepped away from him.

"So, now what?" she asked, slapping her hands down on her legs and taking a good look around. 

"This way," Jericho told her, leading her towards a particular wall. There were several of them with various obstacles, overhangs and differently spaced hand and foot holds.

"The four year old girl wall?" Angel guessed.

Jericho grinned. "You got it, sister."

He got her set up so that he would spot her from the ground. 

"Okay. Take your time and make sure you get to the top."

Angel nodded, rubbed her hands together and stared up at the wall. Shouldn't be too hard. Once she'd started, she regretted this evaluation. Jericho was right. Her upper body strength was pathetic. She climbed slowly, obviously using her legs and feet more than her arms. She tried to pick the path where the handholds were further apart than the footholds, without realizing that handholds became footholds and soon she was stuck, still several feet from the top. She hung there like a stunned possum and tried to clear her mind.

"Get that handhold to the left!" Jericho shouted from the ground. 

Angel did as she was told without even thinking.

"Great! Now move your left foot to that one even further to the left."  
Angel nearly peered down in disgust. How the heck was she supposed to do that? That would mean she'd have to move her right foot, too – the human body just didn't stretch that far. For at least a split second, she'd be hanging by just her hands. There was no way…

"Go!" Jericho shouted. 

Spurred on by his cry, Angel clenched her teeth and pushed on the handholds, releasing her feet. Straining against the pressure, she moved her left foot. Closer, closer, she was there. She leaned down hard and slipped. She was falling. Jericho was on it, slowing and controlling her descent until she was safely on the ground again.

Eyes blazing, Angel threw her hands onto her hips and glared. "Great plan, Jerky."

"You're doing it wrong," Jericho informed her.

"No kidding."  
"You wanna be a shooter, right?" Jericho asked.

Angel sighed. "You wouldn't even begin to understand what I want to be."

"Try me," he challenged.

Angel scowled and turned away.

"What I was getting at," Jericho went on. "Is that the wall's like any wrestling opponent. You need three things to beat it. Speed, strength and strategy. If you're a shooter, start acting like it and kick the wall's ass."  
Angel turned and glared at him again. "I'm not a damn shooter. I don't give a crap about being a shooter. Learning with Benoit is just the means to an end. Okay?"  
Jericho held her gaze. "You're lying, but fine. That's a long enough break. Try it again. And this time, try it a little faster. My stopwatch fell asleep before you were even halfway up."  
"You're timing me?" Angel cried.

"I'm timing you. Now, plot your course and go for it."  
Angel scowled at him but nodded and turned to the wall. She mentally imagined the path she'd take, then clapped her hands together. She was ready.

She took it slowly, screw Jericho and his stopwatch, and methodically, still concentrating more on limiting the use of her arms. But this time she had a path to follow and, eventually, she made it.

"Yes!" Angel cried as Jericho lowered her again. "I did it!"  
Jericho was less impressed. "Are you even hearing a word I'm saying?"  
"I made it to the top!" Angel snapped. "What more do you want?"  
"Of the three things I said you only had strategy. What the hell kind of shooter behavior is that?"  
Angel shook her head in disgust. "You're not even a shooter and yet you're giving me more crap about it than Benoit does."  
"Well, someone has to."  
"Newsflash, genius!" Angel snapped. "It's a wall, not a wrestler! And furthermore, Benoit's the shooter. I'm not."  
"Not if that's how you act under pressure," Jericho spat. "I'm not kidding about this. You're wasting my time and yours. Now do it and this time do it properly. Go fast and if I see you favoring your legs again, I'm gonna tie them together."

Angel's mouth dropped open. "You wouldn't."

Jericho's eyes flashed dangerously. "Dare me."

Angel took a deep breath and faced the wall. Forget Jericho. Forget Benoit. Forget everything. She had a mountain to climb. Despite the fact he might want to, Jericho wasn't going to let her fall to her death. It didn't matter if she slipped. She clapped her hands together again and replotted the course. Speed, strength and strategy. Now, go.

She dragged herself up the wall as quickly as she could, finding that, once she stopped treating her arms and hands as disabilities, she could actually move much faster. Before she knew it she'd reached the top and was being lowered again.

She grinned triumphantly at Jericho. "How was that?"  
He nodded. "Better. Now, shave ten seconds off that time." He held up the stopwatch so she could see. 

"What?" Angel cried, shaking out her already sore arms. "You've gotta be kidding."  
Jericho stared at her. "Not kidding. Speed, strength and…"

"Strategy, I got it," Angel muttered irritably, turning to the wall. "Kurt's three I's have nothing on you and your three S's."

"I don't know what you're talking about, baby. Y2J only has one ass and that's a damn fine one."

So, with those words in her mind, Angel scaled the wall again.

"Three point two," Jericho informed her. "Not good enough."

Angel sighed. "I told you I'm no shooter."

Jericho shook his head. "It's not about that. It's about the wall. You fear the wall. Never fear the wall. Own the wall. Make the wall fear you."

"Whatever," Angel muttered.

"Maybe ten's too much," Jericho mused. "Try for five."

"Again?" Angel cried.

"Again."  
Angel swore under her breath and turned to the wall.

"Fear me, bitch," she scowled, although whether she was saying it to the wall or Jericho she didn't know. Perhaps both. Whichever way, she had to get up the wall and get up there quick. She took off, hand, foot, climb, go. Faster, faster, faster.

She hit the top and Jericho lowered her again.

"Six point four," he informed her. "Better."  
Exhauster, Angel heaved in gasps of air. "Great. Let's go home."  
Jericho shook his head. "Do it again."

"What?" Angel cried. 

"Five more seconds," Jericho said. "Then we can go."

Angel's arms were burning from the shoulders down and she wrapped them around her, face contorted in pain. "Bullshit. I've already trained today!"

"Five more seconds and you own the wall," Jericho informed her.

"Five more seconds and I drop dead," Angel shot back.

"Sister, that's reason enough for me. Now, get up there."  
Angel glared at him before reclaiming her cool. "If I make it, I get to be car DJ."

Jericho gave her a thoughtful stare. "Okay, make it ten seconds."  
"What?" Angel cried. "Impossible!"  
"Ten seconds. Now go, go!"  
Angel didn't even think. She just climbed. She knew the path so she trusted her arms and legs and went for it. Her shoulders burned, her breathing was ragged, her hair was probably a wreck, but she kept going up. Up…up…up. She hit the top with no idea of her time. It had felt faster, but then that could have been because she hadn't been thinking about it too much. When her feet hit the ground, she looked over at Jericho, who was peering from the stopwatch to Angel and back again.

Angel breathlessly threw her hands onto her hips.

"So?" she prompted.

Jericho blinked heavily and held up the stopwatch. Angel wiped the sweat form her brow and did the math.

"Ten point seven?"  
"That's what I got," Jericho nodded disbelievingly.

Angel slowly broke into a grin.

"Oh yeah!" she cried, slamming her hands down in a D-Generation X crotch chop. "Eat this, Jericho! In your face!"  
"Cool your jets, sister," Jericho advised. "Next time I'll try you on the five year old girl wall."

Angel grinned. "Bring it on!" She tore at her harness, suddenly eager to exercise control over the stereo. In less than a minute, she was hopelessly, irrevocably tangled.

Smirking, Jericho watched her struggles. "Need some help?"  
"No, I've got it," Angel snapped, still pulling at the harness and actually tightening it around her body. She looked desperately up at Jericho. "Are you just gonna stand there looking goofy or what?"  
Jericho chuckled, but stepped forward. He adjusted something and unclipped something else and then, just like that, Angel was free. 

"Are you okay?" Jericho chuckled, noticing she was holding her stomach where the harness had dug in.

"I'm fine," she replied shortly. "Now, let's get the hell out of here."  
Jericho laughed at her again and they headed over to return the equipment.

* * * *

Angel closed her eyes and let the sound drift over her. Pure, blissful silence. Beside her, Jericho muttered under his breath and concentrated on driving like a maniac.

"I thought you were gonna be DJ," he said at last.

Angel's eyes blinked open. "I am."

"So, where's the tunes?"

Angel lazily stretched her still aching arms. "This is it."

Jericho shook his head. "Forget that."

He reached down and popped the tape back in, causing the stereo to roar into life and Angel's headache to return with a vengeance. 

"I don't think so, mister," Angel announced, ejecting the tape and pulling it from the player. "I won. That means I get the spoils."

Jericho shot her a sideways glance. "You better put that tape back."

"I know what I _should_ do with it," Angel told him, winding down her window just enough to get him worried.

It worked.

"Don't even think about it," Jericho scowled, switching his gaze between her and the road.

"It'd be a shame, wouldn't it?" Angel teased, waving the tape in the air.

Suddenly, Jericho pounced.

"Get off me, you son of a bitch!" Angel screamed, still tightly clutching the tape.

Jericho fumbled around shouting "Give me the tape, slut!" and the car veered onto the sidewalk.

The sudden undulating surface shook Jericho back into his seat as they realized exactly how much trouble they were in if they didn't act. Jericho didn't think. He swung the wheel and the car jerked back onto the road, the sudden movement dislodging the tape from Angel's hand.

"Uh oh," she blurted.

Jericho slammed on the brakes and glared furiously at Angel. "Now give the damn tape back, okay?"  
Angel stared at him, eyes wild. "I don't have it."

"You _better_ have it!" Jericho screamed.

Angel shook her head quickly. Benoit she had controlled, but not Jericho. She had no doubt that he could…and would kill her if she pissed him off enough. And this might just be the catalyst. The look on his face was positively frightening.

"I'll get it," she announced, throwing the door open and leaping out before he could say anything. She sprinted down the sidewalk.

"Come on!" she cried. "Where are you? I don't want to die today."

It was hopeless. Searching for a tape in the city was like searching for a soul in a McMahon. But then, that wasn't altogether helpless.

"Shane and Linda," she reminded herself and suddenly, there it was.

She picked it up with a flourish and ran back to the car. Jericho's face was unreadable as she closed the door and handed the tape back to him. He examined it carefully, playing with the reels and checking the surface. He looked over and noticed that Angel was watching him.

"This is a taped jam session," Jericho told her. "It's not an album or anything. It is the only copy."  
Angel said nothing. She was praying even harder that the tape was okay. 

Satisfied that the exterior was fine, Jericho put it in the player. The sound blared out, loud and clear. Jericho nodded and fast-forwarded it a little before playing it again. Convinced there was nothing wrong, he ejected the tape, found its cover and put it safely inside. Then he started up the car and pulled back into traffic.

Angel watched him quietly. She hadn't wanted to lose her life today, true. But now she knew how to get at him. She could cover her back and pick her spot. And then it'd be adios, Jerky. Good stuff. Real good. She studied Jericho's face. He thought he was so damn good, so damn witty, so damn sexy, God's gift to women and the world. It was about time someone pulled him down a notch. And if William Regal couldn't, Angel sure could.

'Some day, Y2J,' she vowed. 'Some day.'

"I'm gonna grab a burger," Jericho announced suddenly. "You want one?"

Angel was so stunned he was speaking to her, she didn't even reply. It didn't matter. Jericho went on.

"McDonald's, Burger King, Wendy's?" Jericho asked, eliciting a silent frown from Angel. "Wendy's it is."

* * * *

Jericho watched Angel with an amused smile. "Wanna eat any faster?"  
"Shut up," Angel muttered with a mouth full of burger. She grabbed at a handful of fries and continued her feeding frenzy. It was almost as though she could feel the saturated fat hardening her arteries.

"Damn this is good," she muttered blissfully before catching herself and reforming her smirk. "Benoit's gonna crack the shits when he finds out you let me eat this."  
"What?" Jericho asked. "He got you on a special orangutan diet?"

"Yep," Angel nodded. "So he's gonna kick your ass when he finds out about this."

Jericho gave her a frustrated frown. "You're welcome."

"I didn't thank you," Angel said bitchily.

"Exactly. You never do. A lot of people do a lot of things for you, but all you do is bitch and complain. Can't you be grateful for once?"

"Sure," Angel scowled. "When I have something to be grateful for."

Jericho shook his head slowly. "I don't believe you. You're so self-absorbed you can't even see past the nose on your face to all the blessings you have in your life. Why can't you see it?"  
Angel raised her eyebrows. "When I want a sermon, I'll go to church."

Jericho sighed deeply and watched her ravenously devouring her meal. She was a strange girl, but he had her figured out. Someone had to save her from herself. He didn't have to do it, but the fact was that he could. And maybe he was the only person who could. 

"Hey baby," he said thoughtfully. "Let's play a game. If I was to tell you that today I'll buy you the one thing you want the most, what would that one thing be?"

Angel blinked at him uncertainly. "That's a stupid game."

"No, really. Whatever you want. I'll buy it for you. You want a car, it's yours. Come on. It's not like I can't afford it." He gave her an endearing smile, which made her incredibly uncomfortable. 

"Don't do me any favors," she snapped.

"Wouldn't dream of it. Favors require gratitude and I already know I won't be getting any of that from you. Besides, I don't do favors, remember?"

Angel scowled at the repetition of the phrase that had started this whole mess.

"What do you want more than anything else in the world?" Jericho asked again.

"Jericho, I don't want you as a friend, so don't even try, okay?"

Jericho shook his head. "This isn't about friendship. It's about you, looking deep into your heart and soul and being honest with me, maybe for the first time ever. That's the game we're playing. And if you don't play, that means I am the winner and you are the loser."

Angel glared at him. There was no way she was gonna lose a mind game war with Chris Jericho.

"I want a hot fudge sundae," she blurted.

Jericho was amused. "Really?" he laughed.

"Yeah," Angel scowled. "A hot fudge sundae. That's what I want."  
"Okay." Jericho threw his hands in the air. "I guess you win."

"You're damn right I do," Angel replied testily. 

She wrapped her arms across her chest. She'd won. They both knew it. So why did she feel like she'd lost? Suddenly, she heard a small voice.

"Chris Jericho?"  
Both Jericho and Angel looked over at the speaker. It was a teenage girl, who was standing with a small boy.

"Oh wow, I thought it was you," the girl cooed. "Can you sign an autograph for my little brother? You're his favorite; he has your action figure and everything."

The small boy stared at Jericho with wide eyes and produced the miniature Y2J. Jericho grinned.

"Would you look at that? It's me! What are your names?" he asked the kids as he stole Angel's napkin and received a glare in protest.

"I'm Melissa and this is Eric," the girl said, trying to keep her cool, despite the fact she was bouncing all over the place.

"Marisa and Derek?" Jericho replied jokingly as he wrote the correct names on the napkin, along with 'Welcome to Wendy's is Jericho.' He scrawled another few pleasantries before signing his name and 'Y2J'. He handed the napkin and pen to Melissa, who was staring at him as though he was a god.

"Thank you," she breathed.

"You're welcome, baby," he grinned, but she was still rooted to the spot.

"Who…who's this lady?" she asked uncertainly. "She's pretty. Is she your girlfriend or whatever?"  
"Oh, she wishes," Jericho gloated, winking at his young fans. "No, you know her. Chris Benoit's manager."

The young girl squinted. "Oh yeah. Well, I don't like Chris Benoit. He's kinda freaky looking."

"Yeah, you got that right, baby," Jericho agreed. "But trust me, you should get this girl's autograph too. She's gonna be bigger than Chyna!"  
The girl gave him a strange look. "Okay, whatever." She handed Angel the napkin and pen. "Can you please sign this?" she asked, all enthusiasm gone from her voice.

Angel frowned but signed her name as the girl got somewhat bold with Jericho. 

"So, what are you guys doing today?"

"Escaping from Benoit," Jericho told her. "Can you imagine having to hang out with Mr. Roboto 24/7? That's what Angel here has to do."

"That sucks," the girl agreed, eyeing Angel for a moment. "Hey, I remember you, now. You used to hangout with the Hardy Boyz, right? I love them. They're so cute! What are they like, really?" Angel pretended to be engrossed in her own autograph so she wouldn't have to answer. "So, like, what was up with you and Jeff? Because my friend Shauna said the two of you were kissing one time on Sunday Night Heat. I didn't see it because my parents won't let me watch MTV. But Shauna, she was so pissed, because she's like completely in love with Jeff. I mean, she even has every one of his poems memorized…"

Angel frowned up at the girl. "Your parents don't let you watch MTV but they let your little brother watch WWF?"

The girl shrugged. "Well, yeah."  
Angel raised her eyebrows and handed back the napkin and pen. 

"There you go," she said coolly.

"Thanks," the girl replied uncertainly. "Come on, Eric. Mom and Dad are waiting." She flashed what she hoped was a sexy smile at Jericho. "It was so great meeting you. You're really hot!" she blurted quickly, making her escape.

"Bye-bye, Y2J," the small boy said timidly before racing after his sister.

"Cute kids," Jericho mused, before frowning at Angel. "You need to learn to be nice to the fans."

Angel shrugged indifferently. "They weren't my fans. They were yours."  
"You could have at least tried to make a connection. Like talking to that girl about the Hardyz. That's what she wanted."

"I don't even like to _think_ about the Hardyz," Angel informed him. "Why would I want to talk about them?"

Jericho shook his head slowly. "Come on. We're outta here."

Angel simply threw her trash on the tray and followed Jericho from the restaurant without another word.

* * * *

Angel sighed deeply as Jericho pulled up, ending yet another round of Denver Road Rage. 

"Now where are we going?"

Jericho turned to her and grinned maniacally. "I'm a genie in a bottle, baby. You gotta rub me the right way."

"Whatever," Angel muttered, climbing out of the car.

"This way," Jericho announced.

Angel followed him solemnly until her eyes fell on the store in front of them.

"Ben and Jerry's?" she cried before she could stop herself.

"You won the game," Jericho shrugged. "It's the least I can do." He stepped up to the counter and tapped it thoughtfully until a girl arrived to serve him.

"Can I help you?"

"You bet you can. This girl over here needs the biggest, deadliest hot fudge sundae you can possibly manage. It needs to be so good, so potent, that after just one bite she will never…ever be the same again."

"I got it," the girl said boredly, jotting down the order. "And you?"  
"I'll take a small Rocky Road."

"No problem." The girl took his money and headed off to fill the order.

Minutes later, Jericho and Angel were sitting at a table, eating their desserts.

"Oh man," Angel sighed happily as the ice cream and fudge melted on her tongue.

Jericho watched with amusement as he delicately licked his own ice cream. "That really was what you wanted most in the world, wasn't it?"  
Angel couldn't conceal her pleasure and nodded. "Don't start thinking I'm gonna thank you, though."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"And when Benoit finds out he is seriously gonna lose his mind. I mean a burger, fries and ice cream? It's like the ultimate sin in Benoit-land."

Jericho frowned at her. "So don't tell him."  
Angel smirked at him. "I wanna tell him. I wasn't kidding about him watching what I eat. When he finds out what you fed me today he's gonna kick your ass."

"And you like that idea."

"Jerky, I love that idea."

"And why's that?"

"Simple," Angel shrugged. "It'll get rid of you, then once again, I'll only have to deal with one asshole."

Jericho held her gaze. "You really think it's gonna be that simple?"

"No, I don't. But I haven't even tried yet."

"Is that a threat?" Jericho asked, eyebrows raised.

"Take it how you want it," Angel said softly.

Jericho blinked. "Why are you so desperate to get rid of me?"

"It's a thing me and Benoit have. We like each other to be lonely and miserable. We get a kick out of it."

Jericho's eyebrows shot up. "Benoit's gonna be lonely and miserable no mater what. It's his schtick, you know?"

"Yeah, maybe. But you're looking more and more like his friend every day. So sorry, Ayatollah, but you gotta go."

Jericho nodded thoughtfully. "Wanna know what _I_ think?"

Angel shrugged indifferently. "Not really, but I'm sure you're gonna tell me anyway."

Jericho grinned at her. "You, baby, are in love with…"

"If you say Jeff Hardy I'm gonna break your face," Angel cut in.

"No, not Jeff," Jericho told her. "Although I wish that were true. The kid's a good friend of mine. He deserves a break."

Angel's insides were all over the place. 

"So tell me, Jerky. Who am I in love with?"  
"You're in love with Chris Benoit."

"What?" Angel screamed.

"Well, maybe not in love," Jericho said. "But you definitely want to get down his tights."

Angel was fuming and clawing at the table. "What's wrong with you, Jericho? Going a little heavy on the bleach this month?"  
Jericho smirked at her. "You want him and you can't have him and that kills you."

Angel's face was bright red and she was very close to popping a vein. "I don't have to listen to this."  
Jericho couldn't hide his grin. "You do. Just think about it. You clearly want to get rid of me so you're alone with him."

"Getting rid of you is only one step away from getting rid of him," Angel spat.

Jericho was unfazed. "And you're always hounding the poor guy, trying to get his attention, trying to get him to notice you. You just keep bugging him and bugging him and bugging him until he calls you princess. Because that gets you going, doesn't it, princess?"

Angel was absolutely livid. She couldn't even speak.

"Well, princess, let me tell you something. I'm not going anywhere. So if you want a piece of the Wolverine Machine, you've gotta put up with the fact that I'm gonna be there and I know exactly what you're doing."

"You don't know shit," Angel snapped.

"Yeah, we'll see, baby. Now eat up. You're gonna need your energy for trapping your man tonight."  
Angel threw down her spoon. "I'm done."

"You wanna go back to the hotel? You miss Benoit that much?"  
Angel's eyes flashed. "Shut the hell up."

"So you can dish it out but you can't take it. What a surprise."

"Screw you," Angel spat. "I hate Benoit. I hate him more than anything else in the world."

"Really?" Jericho asked.

"Really."  
"You don't want a piece of the Crippler?"

"I _hate_ him."

"Well, in that case," Jericho shrugged. "You won't mind if I do this."

With that, he lunged across the table, grabbed her face in both of his hands and kissed her. Angel squirmed under his touch, caught her arms against his chest and pushed him away. He stared at her smugly as her eyes blazed dangerously. 

"Let's get something straight," she hissed. "Never, ever kiss me without permission again. Do you hear me?"

"You were begging for it, baby," Jericho gloated.

Angel stood up, absolutely furious. 

"Take me home," she demanded.

"What?"  
"Take me home now!" Angel shouted.

Jericho shrugged. "Okay, baby, get a grip. We're leaving."

"Good," Angel fumed, heading for the door. She didn't say another word until they were back at the hotel.

* * * *

Angel had been quiet all night. Jericho knew why and as a result his smirk was wider than ever. Benoit didn't even seem to notice. All he was concerned with was getting the match he wanted and when Angel came through with that – tag with Jericho against Angle and Regal, with submissions, no less, he was as happy as he ever got. In fact, he even sought out Angel to let her know something.

"Set up two in a row like this and we'll get that punching bag."

Angel just nodded solemnly. Incentive. She only hoped Regal would play ball. Regal, her last hope. Well, close to her last hope. She'd been manipulating Regal since she'd first suited up as little miss manager. Like Angle, he was too stupid to see it. Unlike Angle, she hoped he wouldn't clue in before she got what she wanted.

During the match itself, Angel cheered on the commissioner and tried her best to pretend the other three didn't exist. Being a submissions match, it should have taken longer. Should have. Unfortunately, Regal found himself on the receiving end and, despite Angel's encouragements, he tapped out. The Canadian Chrises emerged unscathed from a match that had been almost too easy. Angel was worried. In order to set her free, Regal would have to be able to beat Benoit. Right now that looked like it'd require some very heavy duty cheating. She just had to get free – not just from Benoit, but from Jericho too. The stakes were high. Could she handle it?

She was thinking so hard on this as she followed Benoit and Jericho to the locker room that she almost missed her friend.

"Angel." The voice didn't hold its usual exuberance. That in itself made Angel stop short.

"Hey, duchess and queen. Don't sweat your berries. I'll catch you up later." Neither Benoit nor Jericho even bothered to turn around. "Okay, Trish. What's up?"  
Trish's pretty face was contorted into a frown. 

"Do I look nervous?" she asked, holding up a visibly shaking hand.

"Yes," Angel confirmed, putting a hand on her shoulder. "What happened?"  
"I have a match," Trish sighed. "With Ivory. If I lose I have to join RTC."

"What?" Angel cried.

"It's true," Trish said sadly. "I can't join them, Angel. I'd look just awful in those outfits. And wearing my hair pulled back would make my ears stick out so much I'd look like a Volkswagen with the doors open. It can't happen!"

"Okay, Trish, calm down a minute? Who made the match? 'Cause Commissioner Regal really likes me. I could probably get it changed, even canceled."

"No." Trish shook her head. "It was Vince."

"Vince?" Angel cringed. That was one she couldn't fix. "What happened?"  
"I ran into him in the hallway. He was rambling about Shane and then next thing I know I had this match."

"Looks like you have a severe case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time," Angel told her.

"I know," Trish wailed. "Please, Angel. You have to help me. I can't join them!"  
Angel nodded slowly. Here was her chance. She hadn't been able to save the Kat but maybe now, two months later, she could finally make amends.

"Don't worry, Trish," she said with certainty. "We're gonna win you this thing. Now, let's go to the locker room and talk this through."

Trish nodded frantically. At this point in time she was willing to try anything.

* * * *

"Okay," Angel said, pacing the room as Trish sat miserably on the bench. "What are your signature moves?"

"My what?" Trish asked anxiously. 

Angel's eyes widened. That was definitely not promising. How had Trish even gotten a contract? Oh duh, Angel. The same way she'd gotten first class airplane tickets.

"Alright," Angel tried again. "What moves can you do?"  
Trish frowned thoughtfully. "I can do a bulldog and a DDT."

"Okay, now we're getting somewhere," Angel nodded. "What else?"

"I can push her head into stuff, you know. Oh, and I'm real good at bra and panties matches."

Angel took a deep breath. "What else?"  
Trish grinned t her. "I can punch and I can kick and I can slap and pull hair."

"That's it?" Angel asked, hoping not too incredulously. 

"Well yeah. I'm a diva, not a wrestler. Is that bad?"  
Angel sighed. Yes, it was bad. Very, very bad.

"How about submission?" she asked out loud. "Which submission holds do you know?"  
"Submission holds?" Trish frowned. "You mean in or out of the bedroom?"

And the scary part was she wasn't kidding.

"In the ring, Trish."  
"Submission holds," Trish repeated. "Submission holds. Oh, I know! I can do a chokehold!"

"Chokeholds are illegal," Angel informed her.

"Oh, they are?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Oh," Trish whined. "Well, that's all I know."

Angel sighed again. Trish was in big, big trouble. "Okay, we don't have much time. Get into your ring outfit and I'll try to teach you a couple of things. And don't spend too much time making yourself look good, okay?"  
"But…" Trish started.

Angel stared at her. "If you want to win this match you'll do what I say."

Trish withered under the younger girl's stare. "Okay." She quickly ran to get ready. Angel let out a huge breath and racked her brains. They had no time. What could she teach Trish that would even make her competitive with Ivory?  
Minutes later, Trish was ready. Angel was impressed with her speed.

"What do you want me to do?" Trish asked. 

Angel had set up a few gym mats and was standing in the middle of them. "Can you do a spear?"  
"What's that?" Trish questioned.

"Edge does them. Rhyno too. What you've gotta do is go in low and stick your shoulder into my stomach. Try it."

"What, now?"

"Yeah, now. Run at me as quick as you can and slam your shoulder into my stomach."

"But won't I hurt you?" Trish asked worriedly.

"That s the idea. Don't worry, I'll be fine. Now go, hit me!"  
The spear wasn't too difficult and Trish soon had it down.

"This is fun!" she cried. "What next?"  
"Clothesline? Simple but effective."

"Oh yeah," Trish grinned. "I can already do those, so you don't have to teach me."

"Great," Angel smiled. "How about some sort of powerslam? How strong are you?"  
"I don't know," Trish shrugged.

"Alright. Ivory's not too big, but you'll still probably have trouble lifting her, so we'll try a scoop slam."

"I don't know what that is," Trish admitted.

"It'll work best if Ivory runs at you and tries for a clothesline or something. Grab her leading arm, hold her by the shoulders, pick her up between the legs, lift her as high as you can and slam her down real hard. Okay?"

"Um, I don't know."

"I'll run at you and you try it. Pin my arm, pick me up, slam me down. Got it?"  
"Yeah, I think so."  
After three attempts, Trish had only managed to lift Angel to waist height, but had still done some damage to Angel's back. 

"Good enough for now," Angel decided. "Now, most important move. Irish whip. That's where you swing them by the arm and push them across the ring. Even if you can't do anything else, you'll do some real damage with a few whips to the turnbuckles."  
"I can do that," Trish nodded confidently.

"Alright. What else? Hey, you wanna learn a real hold?"  
"Sure!"  
"Alright," Angel grinned. "Armdrag takeover. It's tough, but if you can pull it off, Ivory's gonna have a new respect for you."

"Sounds great!" Trish cried. "How's it work?"

Angel showed her as best she could, demonstrating a couple of times before she let Trish have a turn. 

"I had real trouble when I first learned this," Angel admitted after a few failed attempts. "But then, I was doing it to Al Snow."

"I always wanted to do it to Al Snow," Trish grinned.

"Trish," Angel laughed. "Be serious."

"I _am_ serious," Trish insisted. "He has the cutest dimples."

"Okay," Angel smiled. "Let's try another couple of armdrags."

Trish nodded, getting a focused look on her face.

Suddenly, there was someone at the door.

"Miss Stratus? It's time for your match."

Trish let out a huge breath. "Well, Angel. I guess this is it. Wish me luck."

"Luck?" Angel cried. "I'm going with you."  
"You are?"

"Hell yes, I am. I want to be there to see the look on Ivory's face when you kick her cocky ass!"  
Trish grinned. "Okay! Let's go!"

She and Angel headed off to the ring.

"You know," Trish confided. "I've never had a female valet before."

"Well, Trish," Angel smiled. "Looks like it's your lucky night."

* * * *

Angel and Trish stood in the ring, watching Ivory make her entrance. Angel could just see the little weasel staring at Trish as if to say, "There stands our newest member".

"Over my dead body," Angel muttered under her breath. She patted Trish on the back. "Kick her ass."

Trish nodded, completely focused on Ivory. Angel rolled from the ring and took her place in the corner.

"Let's go, Trish!" Angel cried as the bell rang.

Unfortunately, Ivory immediately brought Trish down with a drop toehold and then physically walked over her spine.

"Oh, come on!" Angel cried. "That can't be allowed. Get up, Trish!"  
Trish did as she was told and tried for a hard right hand but Ivory ducked it, kicked Trish in the stomach and slammed her down in what appeared to be an X-Factor.

Angel slowly shook her head. This was not going to plan. Next came a suplex and a scoop slam before Ivory hooked Trish's leg.

"Kick out!" Angel screamed and Trish did so, just in time.

Angel sighed. Ivory was owning Trish. Something had to be done. So, as Ivory grabbed Trish's hair and prepared her for the next hold, Angel shouted the first thing she thought of.

"Spear! Spear!"  
Bam! Trish's shoulder slammed into Ivory's abdomen and pushed her all the way into the corner. But Trish wasn't done, throwing in four mini-spears for good measure.

"Great, now whip her!"  
Ordinarily, these words would have meant something else to Trish, but she was on task, sending Ivory into the opposite corner and running to the middle to wait for her.

Angel opened her mouth to shout "DDT!" but before she could, Trish grabbed Ivory's arm and threw her over in a very impressive armdrag takedown.

"Yeah. Way to go Trish!" Angel applauded.

Encouraged, Trish tried again and the second one came off even better than the first. She was on a roll.

"Scoop slam! Scoop slam!"

Sure enough, Ivory was going for a clothesline. Trish grabbed her arm, lifted her to shoulder height no less, then slammed her down again. Angel was very impressed, but there was no time for that.

"Make the cover!"  
Trish pounced on Ivory, but only got two. 

"Alright," Angel mused, leaning right over the apron. "Whip her again."

Trish nodded and sent Ivory into the corner again.

"Try a bulldog," Angel suggested.

Trish turned and started to run at Ivory, but was caught with a clothesline.

Angel's fists flew to her mouth as Ivory picked up Trish by the hair. She suddenly realized she hadn't taught Trish any reversals. Whatever Ivory did to her, she was going to have to wear it until she could find some offense of her own. It was bad, bad news.

Ivory finally decided on a sit down powerslam – brutal. She made the cover.

"Kick out!" Angel screamed.

Somehow, Trish found enough to do just that.

Angel heaved a sigh of relief. Maybe they were just prolonging the inevitable but still, Trish was fighting for survival. She had everything to lose.

Another scoop slam and Ivory went up top.

"Trish, run, run!"

Trish somehow found her feet and moved from the flying clothesline just in time.

"Yes! Now, while she's confused, surprise her!"  
Trish formed a painful grin, spun around and bam! Bulldog.

"Hook her leg! Cover!" Angel screamed. "One! Two! Three!"  
Angel went wild. Trish had done it! She'd done it! Angel dove into the ring as the ref raised Trish's hand in victory. Angel grabbed her other hand and launched it into the air.

"You did it!" Angel cried, hugging her friend.

They climbed from the ring together, gloating over at Ivory, who was completely bewildered.

"I did it!" Trish shouted. "I beat that frigid bitch! That's right! I beat you!"  
Angel laughed and put her arm around Trish as they started up the ramp. "You did awesome, girl."

"Yeah, I did," Trish grinned. "But Angel. I couldn't have done it without you."  
"Oh, you had all the moves," Angel told her. "I was just some fool shouting stuff."

"Yeah, but if you hadn't, I would have been lost."

"I guess we do make a pretty good team."

"You bet!" Trish cried as they turned on the ramp and hugged each other again. This drew a huge pop from the heavily male crowd, obviously thinking 'I wanna be in the middle of that!'

Angel smiled at Trish's happiness. Oh well, she'd just proved something. Even if this getting a contract and beating Steven Richards thing didn't work out, at least she knew she could coach other people to a win. Maybe she could open a wrestling school.

'Oh yeah,' she thought. 'The Torres Dungeon. Or better yet, Angel's Hell. How sweet would that be?'


	44. Queensberry Rules

Title: Queensberry Rules

Warnings: Language, violence (actually, not much), some manipulation and mind games.

Spoilers: For the date given.

Disclaimer: All characters except Angel are owned by Vince McMahon and the WWE.

Summary: If you were given the card to Smackdown, who would you book? (seriously, all these matches totally reeked of Angel-ness). 

A/N: ff.net's back on track again, yay!!! I'll be heading out to read you guys's stories soon as I get a study break. I meant to add an A/N to the end of the last one, in that I wrote it to explain how come Trish suddenly learned how to wrestle in the time between her match against Stephanie (the day after No Way Out) and the match I wrote up. Someone must have taught her, so it may as well have been Angel :-)

SMACKDOWN, APRIL 26TH, 2001

Angel was sick to death of Chris Jericho. Since they'd stayed in Denver, she'd been rock climbing every day and by Thursday had progressed to an intermediate wall. It was challenging and her arms and shoulders seriously felt like they were made of custard, but she put up with it because, while she was climbing, she could forget about Benoit, Jericho and everything that was bothering her and, well, just climb. It was only when her feet were on the ground that she had to deal with reality. And frankly, reality sucked. 

When they were done with the rock climbing session, Jericho stuffed her full of junk food, simply because he found it incredibly amusing to see how much pleasure she got out of eating it. It obviously gave him some perverted, voyeuristic thrill, which made Angel completely sick. Just as the food was starting to. 

Today she felt sluggish and weak and had almost hurled when Benoit suplexed her. Completely disgusted by her uncharacteristic lack of skills and intensity, Benoit had finished training early and she hadn't even bothered to go find Blackman for weapons. She'd simply gone back to bed to nurse her aching gut.

As she lay in the fetal position, cursing Jericho and his damn Taco Bell, she began to wonder whether he'd been telling her the truth. 

'I wouldn't be surprised if Benoit did put him up to this. To teach me a lesson about the evils of junk food. Well, consider me taught, you son of a bitch. Both of you Canadian bastards conspiring to take all the pleasure out of my life.' She lightly slapped herself in the forehead. 'Okay, now you're getting paranoid. Forget the conspiracy theories.'

She had to use all her mind power to get away. William Regal. William freaking Regal. Tonight she'd ask him. He had the Duchess of Queensberry match with Jericho on Sunday but after that…he could take on Benoit as early as Raw. Angel could be free in four days. And then, finally, she could hang out with Edge, Christian and Rhyno again. She knew they wanted to stay out of her way because she was always with Benoit, but once that was done with it'd all be good. All she had to do was ask Regal tonight.

"If I'm still alive by then," she groaned, clutching her stomach again.

Only two hours later, Benoit was there, dragging her off to lunch. She was wearing pajamas. Neither of them cared. 

Lunch was definitely not a pleasurable experience. As if fueled by her pain, it was almost as though he was force feeding her even more than usual. She knew he wouldn't let her go anywhere until she was done eating, so she ate, everything on her plate, and felt sicker and sicker.

Benoit shot her a sideways glance as they headed back towards their suite. "What the hell's the matter with you?"  
"I'm just dandy," Angel muttered through clenched teeth.

Benoit slowly shook his head and kept walking. Suddenly, Angel went completely pale. She stared at Benoit with pleading eyes, wrenched the room key from his hand and sprinted up the hallway.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!" she blurted, coming to a halt at the door. She frantically worked the key and threw the door open before leaping towards the bathroom. Seconds later, she was leaning over the toilet bowl, heaving for all she was worth.

Finally, when she was completely convinced that her stomach, intestines and several other vital internal organs were now residing in the toilet bowl, she actually began to feel some semblance of normality again.

Taking a few deep breaths, she flushed the toilet, picked herself up and rinsed her mouth at the sink. Trembling slightly, she picked up a hand towel and turned to leave, only to come face to face with Benoit. She gulped down a breath and glared deep into his eyes.

"Enjoy the show?"  
Benoit was in no mood to play. "Did you get drunk last night?"  
Angel let out a sigh and pushed past him. Surprisingly, he relented, but followed her with his eyes.

"We both know I was in my room all night."

Benoit walked behind her and stopped in her doorway, peering past her into the room.

"Do you have alcohol in there?" he asked skeptically.

Angel shook her head and began to shut the door in his face. 

"I'm in no mood for your shit, Benoit," she scowled as he stopped the door and kept staring at her expectantly. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm sick."  
Benoit stared at her expressionlessly. "Your immune system's down. I'll have to change your diet."  
Angel knew what that meant. Anything with taste was going to be out.

"Terrific," she muttered, pushing at the door again. "Now, can you leave?"

Benoit caught the door again. "We should start weighing you at the gym," he said coolly. "You're getting fat."

Angel was outraged. "Only because you make me eat so damn much."

"No," Benoit mused, completely immune to her anger. "It's something else."  
Angel tried once more to shut the door, then gave up and headed for her bed.

"Well, you figure it out, okay? I need to lie down."  
She climbed under the covers and rolled over so she wouldn't have to look at Benoit. He could stay in the doorway all day for all she cared.

"Hey," she called out. "Maybe Test got me knocked up. That'd explain why I puked my guts up before, wouldn't it?"  
Benoit slowly shook his head. "Jericho will be here soon. I suggest you get ready."

With that, he shut the door.

Angel rolled over again. "And I suggest you climb to the roof and throw your damn carcass off. Son of a bitch!"

* * * *

After somehow dragging herself up walls, Angel sat across from Jericho in Pizza Hut, stirring her Coke with a straw as a waitress took their order.

"What do you want, baby?" Jericho asked Angel.

"I'm good," she replied, not looking up.

"You sure?" Jericho asked teasingly.

Angel nodded. "I'm sure."

"Alright." He turned to the waitress. "Just get her some breadsticks with marinara sauce."

The waitress headed off.

"What's the matter, baby?" Jericho asked. "You've been flat all day. Did you have a fight with Benoit?"  
"I'm always fighting with Benoit," she murmured.

"Yep, 'cause that's how you trap a man, right?"  
"Shut up," Angel scowled.

"Hey, it's not my fault it's not working for you," Jericho shrugged.

"Yeah, because he's actually gay and he's doing you," Angel smirked. "I was a fool to think I could turn him."  
Jericho smiled back. "So you _are_ up for it."  
"Always," Angel sneered.

"Well, good. That should at least make this alliance interesting. If you hadn't noticed, Mr. Roboto is not the most fascinating person alive."  
"Sorry to disappoint you, Jerky, but we have no alliance."  
"I know that. I was talking about me and Benoit."  
"Of course you were," Angel smirked. "Tell me, Jericho? Who wears the pants? Who's the woman?" She reached over and ran a lock of golden hair between her fingers. "That'd be you, wouldn't it?"  
Jericho gave a mocking smile and caught her wrist. He threw it down to the table. "That's it. Keep churning them out. Just watch that well doesn't run dry, though. 'Cause, like I said, I'm not going anywhere."  
Angel scowled and reached for her drink. "We'll see, Jericho," she murmured, closing her lips over her straw. "We'll see."

* * * *

"Hi Commissioner Regal."

"Miss Torres, hello, hello. Business as usual, I assume."

Angel shrugged. "You know what they want. Any plans?"  
"Actually, yes," Regal smiled. "A Duchess of Queensberry tag match."  
Angel frowned. "What is that exactly?"  
Regal waggled his finger at her. "Now, now, my dear Miss Torres. I can't tell you that, now, can I?"  
"Of course not," Angel agreed. "Why not?"  
"Because then you might let that toe rag Chris Jericho know and we can't have that. I wish to inform him of the rules in due course. As commissioner, that is my right, is it not?"  
"Of course, but come now, commissioner," Angel smiled meekly. "Why would I tell Jericho? I can't stand the guy. I wanna hear how you're gonna take him down."  
"Yet another thing we have in common," Regal nodded. "Still, how can I be sure I can trust you with that information?"  
"Because," Angel said quietly. "I need a favor."

"You do?"  
"Remember you said if I needed help I should ask for it?" Angel threw her hands down to her sides. "Well, I need your help."

Regal blinked heavily. "Well then, I suppose you better come out with it."  
"I'm all out of options," Angel confessed. "I need you to take on Benoit. To set me free."  
"Fight Benoit?" Regal cried. "I can't do that."  
"Come on, of course you can. We'll figure out some way of cheating…not that you need to cheat in order to beat him. But I'm begging you, please do this."

"I can't," Regal said again. "I have this most important match with Chris Jericho at Backlash…"

"I know," Angel cut in. "I don't mean to take away from that at all. It doesn't have to be tonight. It can be on Raw, or even next week's Smackdown, Heat, anything."

Regal scrunched his face up. "Miss Torres…"

"You said," Angel cut in urgently. "That if I got away from Benoit I could be your deputy commissioner. You said that!"  
"I'm aware of what I said."

"Well, don't you want that anymore?" Angel demanded. "'Cause I'm real good at making matches. Real good."

"I know you have talent in that regard but…"

"But what?" Angel asked. "Please. You're my last hope."

Regal let out a big sigh. "I'll tell you what, Miss Torres. Why don't I trial you? Tonight, with exception of this Duchess of Queensberry match, the card is yours. You're free to make the matches of your choice. If they meet with my approval…all of them, I might add, well, somewhere at my soonest convenience, I will fight Chris Benoit."

Angel blinked at him. "The card's mine?"  
"Well, if you're to be my deputy, and both Mr. McMahon and myself are otherwise occupied, you would be in charge."

Angel nodded. "You're right. Show me the roster. Let's do this thing."  
Regal handed over a clipboard full of names.

"Hmm," Angel mused. So many names, so many options. "Any constraints? Other than no pay per view matches?"  
Regal nodded. "Just one. Mr. McMahon wants Steve Austin and Triple H to experience a tag match before they challenge for the titles."

"Tag team challenge," Angel nodded. "Acolytes?"  
Regal looked shocked. "I don't think you understand. Austin and Triple H must be given every opportunity to win at Backlash."

Angel nodded slowly. Suck up now. Avenge Lita another time. "Got ya. What are Lo Down doing lately?"  
"I'm not sure. I believe they've been sent to Heartland or Ohio Valley."

"Right," Angel replied. "Next best thing. Kaientai."

"You're making a main event out of Stone Cold Steve Austin and Triple H against Kaientai?" Regal cried.

Angel grinned. "Indeed."  
Regal slowly broke into a smile. "Well, I bloody well love it! What next?"  
Angel turned thoughtfully back to the list. Her eyes fell on the names of her friends. Edge and Christian.

'Now, if I was them and I didn't have a Pay Per View match yet, who would I want? A challenge, that's for sure, but a winnable one.' She looked over at Regal. "Handicap match. Edge and Christian versus Kane."

"Are you sure about that?" Regal frowned.

"Well, yeah. I mean, Kane's normally as good as two men, but he does have that busted arm. I think it'd be a fair match and it'll give Kane some practice against a tag team."

"You're absolutely right. What else?"  
Angel studied the list again. How about Rhyno? Who deserved that torture? Her eyes stopped on a particular name. Perfect.

"You know who I think's been doing some good work lately and deserves a title shot?"  
"Who?" Regal asked.

"Test," Angel grinned.

"Test? That miserable toe rag?"  
Angel nodded confidently. "A hardcore title match."  
Suddenly, Regal broke into a grin. "Miss Torres, I like the way you think. Test against Rhyno it is."

"Alright. How many more matches do we need?"  
"Just one, I think."

"One." Angel thought long and hard. What she should do was choose two people she'd like to see tearing each other apart. And then she had the answer. "Another title match. Let's make this thing worth watching. Eddie Guerrero versus Matt Hardy for the Euro title."

"You think Matt Hardy deserves a title shot?"

Angel smirked. "I think Matt Hardy deserves to face Eddie Guerrero."

Regal nodded slowly. "Yes, Miss Torres. I like the sound of that."

Angel handed back the clipboard. "So, that's that, then?"

Regal nodded. "Indeed it is."

"And you approve?"

"I do."

"Great!" Angel cried. "So, when will you fight Benoit?"  
"Patience, my dear girl, patience. I said I'd do it at my soonest convenience and I bloody well meant it."

"Okay, sorry for pushing." Angel backed off, trying not to roll her eyes. "How about those Duchess of Queensberry rules?"  
"You swear you'll keep your mouth closed?"  
"If I tell, you don't have to fight for me."  
"Okay," Regal smiled. "I do believe you're going to like this."

* * * *

"Okay, boys, listen up and listen good 'cause I am only going to say this once."

Benoit and Jericho stopped what they were doing and stared at her expectantly.

"The two of you have a Duchess of Queensberry rules tag match against Angle and Regal."

"What the hell is that?" Benoit scowled.

"Great," Jericho smirked. "It's about time Commissioner assclown decided to come clean with the rules of that thing."

Angel just stared at them enigmatically. 

"What are the rules?" Benoit asked.

Angel frowned. "I thought you knew."

"Does it look like we know?" Jericho asked impatiently.

"Well," Angel sighed. "He didn't tell me." She formed a meek smile. "I guess it's meant to be a surprise."  
"Bullshit," Benoit spat. "I think I'll go pay our commissioner a little visit." He drew a hand across his throat and left the locker room.

Jericho turned to Angel. "He told you, didn't he?"  
"I don't know what you're talking about."  
Jericho sighed. "Why do you do this, baby?"

"Why do I do what?"  
"Purposely try to piss us off."  
Angel shrugged, her eyes shining. "Because it's fun."

Jericho slowly shook his head. "But surely you know what a dangerous game you're trying to play."

Angel shrugged again. "I'm safe."

"Oh, you think so?"  
"No, Jerky, I know so."

Jericho swallowed his anger. "You're unbelievable. You're just begging for an ass kicking and that doesn't worry you?"

"Nope," Angel replied.

"Well it should."

"Why, Jerky? Who's gonna do it? You?"  
"Maybe," Jericho glowered.

Angel grinned. "Nah. You wouldn't."  
"Care to try me?" Jericho's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Geez, Jericho," Angel sighed, shaking out her shoulders. It was time for the heavy artillery. "You don't have to get shitty with me just because Stephanie picked Triple H over you."

Jericho was gobsmacked.

"What?" he screamed.

Angel grinned evilly. "You see, you accusing me of being in love with Benoit got me thinking. Is that what you think love is? Pure, unadulterated hatred? So then I wondered, by that thinking, who do you love? Who do you hound mercilessly and try to take down, time and time again? And then I had the answer. The boss's daughter."

"I am not in love with that two bit slut," Jericho hissed.

Angel smirked. "Not so much fun when the shoe's on the other foot, is it?"  
Jericho paced restlessly. "What's the matter with you, baby? Why are you like this? You're so bitter and vindictive all the damn time. You never let up whether it's me, Benoit, whatever. You've always gotta play these little games and frankly they're wearing pretty thin. When I met you with Jeff, both times you seemed to be a sweet girl, acting like one of the team. So, what happened, baby? What turned you into…into…that?"

"You can't figure that out?" Angel asked disbelievingly.

"No, I can't. So why don't you enlighten me?"  
"Five words, Jerky. I want to get away."

"Why?" Jericho asked.

"Why?" Angel repeated. "Isn't it obvious?"

"No, it's really not."

Angel sighed. "You, Jericho, should know better than anyone what it's like to hate Benoit. To loathe him with every ounce of your being. I mean, is your memory really that short?"

"No, but he's changed."

"No he hasn't," Angel replied ominously.

"Yeah, he has. Since the Radicalz kicked him out, he's been different. Almost tolerable."

Angel shook her head slowly. "He's not different. I caused him to be kicked out of the Radicalz. And he's the same son of a bitch he was then, a week before then, a month before then. Maybe you can't see it, but I guarantee, he's still the same guy." 

"Even if that _is_ true," Jericho said softly. "How about everything he's done for you?"  
"Everything he's done for me?" Angel repeated incredulously.

"That's right," Jericho nodded. "He feeds you, he houses you, he's coached you so close to competitive level that even today you could probably beat half the women on the roster and a couple of the men too. He pays you crazy amounts of money for doing very, very little and still you act like a prize bitch? What's the matter with you?"  
Angel sighed. "You don't understand. If anyone could understand what it's like, I expected you would, but you just don't understand."  
"You're right I don't," Jericho agreed. "I've told you how things look from the outside, so why don't you tell me now? What is so bad?"

Angel took a deep breath as tears pricked her eyes. She didn't like being open with anyone, especially Jericho, but the words were ready to flow from her mouth and she knew she had to let them go. 

"Since Benoit took control over me, I have lost everything. I came here to see my cousin and I stayed because I liked it and because I wanted revenge for something that happened to me. But now my cousin, who I worshipped when I was growing up, she pretends like I don't exist. I've lost two boyfriends and countless friends. I've been beaten up – in the ring, out of the ring, in training. I am lonely. I am miserable. I'm in pain all the damn time and I just want to leave. But I can't, because if I leave without winning my freedom, I can't come back. Benoit would win. And no matter how much I hate my life, I'm stronger than that. So I stay. And I keep hoping and praying that someday I'll get free. It's all I have."

Jericho frowned down at her. "Let me get this straight. You blame Benoit for all of that?"

Angel peered up at him with tear-stained eyes, her expression serene. "No, Jericho. I blame you."  
Jericho physically took a step back. "Me? What did I do?"

"It's what you didn't do," Angel replied softly. "You had the chance to save me, and you didn't. All it would have taken was one stupid signature and I never would have had to make this deal with Benoit. You were Jeff's friend, I was Jeff's friend and yet you couldn't even help out a friend of a friend? You gave your signature out for free at the Wendy's the other day. Why couldn't you do the same for me?"

Jericho frowned. "I told you then I don't…"

"You don't do favors, right," Angel cut in bitterly. "We both know that's bullshit. You and Benoit have been giving out countless favors for weeks now."

Jericho sighed. "I return favors. I don't give them."

"Well, what favor did you want from me? A lap dance? I would have done it. I would have done anything. Jeff told me you'd sign. But you didn't and that's why I'm here. Because of you."

"Then your problem's not with me," Jericho told her. "Your problem's with Jeff."

"Leave Jeff out of this," Angel spat.

"You're the one who brought him up."

"And you're the one who's in love with Stephanie!" Angel cried.

Jericho furiously grabbed her by the shoulders and stared deep into her eyes. "Do you _want_ me to hit you?"  
"Yes," Angel replied with certainty.

"What?" Jericho cried.

"I said, hit me. What's the matter? Chicken?"

Jericho threw his hands to his sides and clenched his fists. "Why do you ask for trouble like this? What's your problem?"  
Angel stared at him, unable to mask her fear. "If you hit me, Benoit will kick your ass."

"Ha!" Jericho replied, looping a circle around the floor. "If I hit you, Benoit will take his ass and laugh it off."

Angel slowly shook her head. "Ironically, it's the only thing I can count on. Benoit will keep his word. If you touch me, he will hurt you and then you will be bye-bye. So go on, hit me."

Jericho glared at her. "You're full of shit."

Angel held his gaze. "Why don't we test it out, huh? I think I hear him coming. Go on, Jerky. Hit me. I'm a big girl. I can take it."

Jericho clenched and unclenched his fists as he stared at her, deciding whether she deserved it enough, picking his spot as she taunted him.

Suddenly the door began to open and Angel grabbed Jericho and pulled him down onto the bench, kissing him for all she was worth.

Benoit's voice rang out. "Limey son of a bitch wouldn't…what the hell is going on in here?" 

He raced over, grabbed Jericho by the hair and dragged him away from Angel.

"What the hell's the matter with you, Y2J? You don't kiss the whore. She's nothing and you don't touch her. Do you hear me?" He released Jericho's hair and shoved him to another corner of the room. "You don't touch her."

"Sorry," Jericho scowled, reaching for the back of his head. "I don't know what came over me."

He sneered over at Angel who was watching him with the same expression, both thinking they'd well and truly made their point. 

Angel smirked at Jericho as Benoit explained that the commissioner hadn't exactly been full of answers.

'That's what you get for saying I'm in love with Benoit,' she gloated. 'How dare you even suggest that. If I'm in love with anyone, it's…' She stopped her thoughts by squeezing her eyes shut. 'Forget that. We've already well and truly proven he doesn't give a crap about you. So get over it, already.'

She sighed and tried to focus on the task at hand. Jericho, Jericho, Jericho. He had to go. There was no doubt about it. Somehow, he had the ability to pull the truth from her and she hated that. If he existed around her, he might discover her plans before she implemented them.

"And I'll be damned if I'm gonna let that happen."

He had to go. He definitely had to go. And if that required pissing him off until he did snap and kick the crap out of her, that's how it'd have to be. She'd survived an attack by the Radicalz – three men and a woman. Surely she'd survive Jericho. He seemed to have a problem with it, as though he couldn't bring himself to hit a woman. Well, Angel would cure that. He'd done it before, he'd do it again. And then Benoit would, whether he liked it or not, have to seek revenge. The alliance would be over. And after that, Regal would beat him. Benoit would be alone. Angel would be free. She couldn't wait.

* * * *

Benoit wrenched Angel's arm almost out of its socket, dragging her away from her conversation with Regal. "Come on, bitch."

Angel sighed and followed him and Jericho up the ramp. Y2J in particular was in a bad mood, having been victim of both the Regal Stretch and the ankle lock simultaneously. Ordinarily, this would result in a disqualification but, as Angel had found out, the Duchess of Queensberry rules were anything but ordinary. For Jericho, the nightmare was just beginning. Just the thought of that made Angel smile. She took off ahead, preparing herself for what she was going to say to Jericho. She had some news for him, that was for sure. Suddenly, up ahead, she spotted her friends. 

"Edge, Christian, hi!"

They broke into sinister smiles, which froze on their faces almost as soon as they'd appeared.

"Yeah, hi," Edge muttered, switching his gaze between Benoit and Jericho. 

"So, you guys have got Kane in handicap. Good luck with that."

"Yeah, thanks," Christian replied. "Come on, dude. We totally gotta…you know, prepare."

"Totally," Edge agreed and the two of them started off. 

"See you guys later," Angel called after them, but they didn't turn back. 

'Wow,' she thought. 'They seem tense. I guess they're worried about Kane. Not that they should be. With his busted arm, it should be a walk in the park. Some day I'll tell them I made that match for them. They'll thank me, for sure. But first, to get rid of these asswipes, one by one.'

She reached the locker room and stepped inside, then waited for Benoit and Jericho to collect their things for the showers.

"Before the two of you get all naked and cozy, I have an announcement to make."

Jericho and Benoit both glared at her. Desired result. 

"I just thought I'd let you know that on Backlash, I'm gonna be William Regal's valet."

"What?" cried both men.

"So, you can imagine I'll be doing my best to help him win his Duchess of Queensberry match," Angel went on, taking particular delight in Benoit's expression. "Come on, you know it's within the rules. You made the rule, remember? I only can't valet for someone…"

"I know what I said," Benoit scowled.

"Well then," Angel grinned. "That's that. Enjoy your romantic shower and Jerky, I guess I'll see you Sunday."

She smiled as they left. She'd be wearing it from Benoit in training, but it was all good. Once Jericho saw exactly how far she was willing to go in order to get rid of him, he'd tell Benoit that their alliance just wasn't worth it. And then he'd be gone. True, she hadn't even asked Regal if he wanted a valet, but why wouldn't he? She was doing it for free and she was personally prepared to see to it that he won. Not that he needed any help with his Duchess of Queensberry rules. They were a stroke of brilliance. Jericho wouldn't even know what hit him.

Her thoughts were stopped when Benoit returned from the shower, shooting her a deadly glare as he stepped over to collect his things.

She quickly followed suit and trailed him to the door.

"You owe me a punching bag," she said to the back of his head. "I got you Angle and Regal again."

"Fine," Benoit muttered, without turning around.

Angel grinned. How sweet of him to be pissed off on behalf of his friend. Or maybe it was because she'd one-upped him again. He was seriously trailing behind. But then she remembered the food incident of that very morning. Still, at worst, they were even. 

They walked in silence until they reached the rental car and Benoit pulled out of the parking lot.

"You know, don't you?" he asked quietly.

"What?" Angel frowned.

"The rules. Regal told you."

Angel grinned to herself. "Now, why would he do that?"

"Tell me," Benoit growled.

"Seriously, Benoit. Even if I did know, why would I tell _you_?"  
"Tell me," Benoit said again.

Angel paused, just long enough so he wouldn't know whether or not she was telling the truth. It would have worked a whole lot better if he could have seen her face. 

"There are no rules," she said at last.

"Excuse me?"  
"Regal's gonna make it up as he goes along, change the rules as it suits him so he wins."

"Is that the truth?" Benoit demanded and she knew she'd succeeded.

"Sure it's true," she replied quickly, implanting even more doubt. "But tell me, do you really think we should tell Jericho? He still thinks he has a chance. Do we really want to ruin it for him? In reality, he hasn't a hope."

"You're a bitch," Benoit scowled.

"Yeah, I know. But I didn't make the rules. Regal did." She paused for a moment. "You know, I really don't know what I'm going to enjoy more this Sunday. You and Kurt killing each other over thirty minutes to decide once and for all who the biggest, whiniest, most submissive bitch really is, or Regal, destroying Jericho in the match from hell. One thing's for sure. Backlash is gonna be one amazing night."


	45. When Angels Fall

A/N: Before the title even, lol! MsLessa, writer of awesome adult fic (check out "Whiskey Cherries" if you don't believe me) here is the chapter you've been waiting for ;-P. And yes, the title kinda is a spoiler, but you'll actually have to read the thing to see what happens…so…it's just a promo, lol!

Title: When Angels Fall

Warnings: Violence, mindgames, language, the usual

Summary: It's coming…she has no idea, but it's been coming for some time now and no one can stop it. The question is, will anyone even care enough to try?

Dedications: This one is for everyone who has ever reviewed this story, to everyone who saw it coming and everyone who didn't. Thanks for reading this far, you're the best!

BACKLASH, APRIL 29TH, 2001

"What do you mean you don't want a valet?" Angel cried.

"I'm very sorry, Miss Torres, but I've already made arrangements in that regard. Tonight, Her Majesty the Duchess of Queensberry herself will be in my corner and I can't compromise my attention to her by including another valet, even one as useful as yourself."  
"But I'll do it for free," Angel insisted. "And I'm not afraid of Jericho. I don't mind cheating. Not that you'll even need to cheat, what with the rules of the match."

"I'm sorry, Miss Torres, but I simply can't. Perhaps tomorrow night on Raw."

Angel sighed. "Okay, but the offer's only good for a match against Jericho that doesn't include Benoit."

"Done," Regal smiled. "I hope you enjoy your evening, Miss Torres. And do come back later and meet Her Majesty. I'm sure she'd be delighted to meet with one of her loyal subjects."

Angel nodded. "If I can get away from Benoit long enough, I'll be there. I'll see you later."

She ran off and returned to the interview area, where Coachman had just wrapped up. Benoit walked over to her and eyed her suspiciously.

"Where the hell have you been?"  
"Nowhere," Angel breathed, trying to get back to normal.

"Right," Benoit muttered, grabbing her wrist. "You want to play. I hope I don't need to remind you not to mess with my match tonight."  
"Please, Benoit," Angel sighed. "I hate Kurt almost as much as I hate you."

Benoit nodded solemnly. "Just don't forget."  
He dragged Angel along until they reached the locker room, then threw her inside. She peered down at her wrist as his finger marks turned white, then red and finally faded. Damn, he was tense. Like even more than usual. Maybe she should have found Lillian to interview him, he could have blown off some steam.

"Angel," she murmured, taking a seat on the bench. "Why do you care?"  
Jericho was already there. No one was speaking and the air was thick with tension, some of it due to Angel, but most of it due to the night itself. As soon as the show started, with X-Factor versus the Dudley Boyz, Angel jumped to her feet.

"Where the hell are you going?" Benoit demanded. Jericho refused to even look at her.

"To valet for Regal. He wants me to wear a costume or something." Oh yeah, that'd mess with Jericho's mind.

Benoit slowly shook his head and scowled at her.

"Don't worry. I'll be back for your match."

"It's straight after Jericho's," Benoit reminded her.

"I know," she shrugged. "I might have to quick-change, but I'll be there."

Benoit sighed furiously as she left the room. The bitch had won again. There was nothing he could do about it. Maybe he'd been too lenient lately. Well, that'd change, starting tomorrow. After all, the bitch really did need some ladder match training. See how clever she felt after falling from ten feet, flat on her back, four or five times in a row. He'd teach her to be a manipulative little whore. She'd learn, sooner than she thought.

* * * *

Angel walked cheerfully down the hallway. Everything was going great. Jericho was almost pissed enough to burst, Benoit was dumbfounded and now she had a window of almost an hour to hang out with Edge, Christian and Rhyno. She had to hurry though – Rhyno's match was up next and she wanted to wish him luck before he headed out there. So she walked quickly, knocking on doors of locker rooms, running into several people she'd rather not talk to – Test and the Hardyz being the most obvious examples, but she didn't care and most of them were too worried about their own matches to really register she was there. She was a girl on a mission. Still, it was taking too long. Where were her friends hiding? Maybe they weren't in yet. That was possible. Christian's triple threat for the Euro title was almost last on the card. But Rhyno should have been there. 

She frowned at a TV monitor as she passed it in the hallway. Rhyno was there, all right. His match was on. Angel sighed. Oh well, she had forever, until after Jericho's match. She could catch Rhyno after he was done – if she ever found the right locker room, that was.

"Hey," she said, approaching a guy from the crew. "Do you know where I can find Edge and Christian's locker room?"  
He nodded slowly. "Sure. You go up there, take a left. Second on your right."

"Got it," Angel smiled. "Thanks."

She frowned at yet another monitor as she passed it. Rhyno had just gored Raven for the win. At the rate Angel was going, he'd beat her to the locker room, so that was something good. 

She raised her head at the sound of a voice. Kurt Angle was headed straight for her, head down, mumbling under his breath. 

"How dare Lillian Garcia even suggest…of course you're more important, my beauties. And tonight, after I beat Chris Benoit, after I…"

Angel watched him warily before taking a deep breath. If she kept on walking past he probably wouldn't even notice her. She cautiously stepped forward.

'Keep your head down, Kurt,' she silently ordered him. 'Keep your head down.'

He was doing it, he was doing what she said. Then, suddenly, he lifted his head and was staring right at her.

"Angel!"

He looked around frantically, obviously searching for Benoit. Angel held her hands up and smiled meekly.

"Just me, Kurt."

"Oh really?" Kurt broke into an evil grin. "That's a shame, isn't it?"

"Come on, Kurt," Angel sighed impatiently. "I haven't given you any trouble for at least a week and you know how I feel about Benoit. If you just play ball and kick his ass tonight…"

"Hold on a second," Kurt cut in. "Are you trying to say you're on my side?"

Angel made a little girl face. "You're against Benoit. Whose side would I be on?"  
Kurt frowned skeptically. "What do you want this time?"  
Angel's smile said one thing. Busted! "I want to go to Edge and Christian so I can wish Christian luck in his European title match."

"That's it?" Kurt cried.

"That's it," Angel replied.

"Well, come with me," Kurt told her. "I know where they are."

"Just like that?" Angel frowned.

"Sure," Kurt grinned. "What's wrong? Don't you trust me? I am Kurt Angle, your American Hero and, like our great president, George Washington, I can not tell a lie. Oh, it's true. It's true."

"Right Kurt," Angel nodded mockingly. "Just take me to the guys."

"Oh, we'll get there," Kurt assured her. "And I'm sure they'll be very, very happy to see you."

'Not as happy as I'll be to see them,' Angel sighed, following Kurt up the hall.

* * * *

Chris Jericho stepped out onto the stage with a microphone in one hand and a top-secret super-technology, multimedia clicking button in the other. He didn't really know much about it, apart from the fact that when he pressed it, his collage would appear on the Titantron, and that was good enough for him. He had other things to worry about, like winning a match when he didn't know the rules, and that certain other little problem.

"Angel," he scowled as he made his way to the ring. "Where are you, little bitch?"  
He couldn't see her anywhere. All he could see was Howard Finkel, William Regal and some chick in a bad wig and even worse dress. She was sitting on a throne, flanked by two secret service-looking guys. So, Regal had tracked down the elusive Duchess of Queensberry. Kudos to the assclown. So where the hell was…oh, no way. He cocked his head and stared as he reached the end of the entranceway. That was some disguise. She'd sure used a lot of makeup – and fake teeth. She looked authentic, all right. And awful, absolutely awful. He raised the microphone to his mouth as his music stopped. It was time to speak.

"So let me get this straight. _That_ is the Duchess of Queensberry?"

The Angel in Duchess clothing gave a toothy grin and nodded.

"That's strange, because I thought the Duchess of Queensberry looked a little more like this…"

He turned to the Titantron and pressed the button down, revealing his picture of William Regal dressed as the Duchess. The crowd went wild as Regal fumed inside the ring.

"Although to be quite honest, I don't know which of you looks more like a man."

Angel somehow stayed in character, slowly shaking her head. Regal was outraged. But Jericho wasn't done yet. He was more than willing to play along with their little charade.

"But even though Chicago is the Windy City, from the looks of it, it seems that Queensberry is the ugly city!"  
That did it. Angel's eyes blazed and she fanned herself with that half a bird she was holding.

Jericho grinned. That ought to hold her until he kicked Regal's ass. He climbed into the ring and circled his opponent. It was go time. 

Other than a failed missile dropkick, the match was all Jericho as Angel was forced to look on through dark brown contact lenses. Jericho threw Regal down with a bulldog, hit the lionsault and hooked Regal's leg. But before the ref could make the count, the ringbell sounded. The ref was just as bewildered as Jericho, but Howard Finkel was there to explain it.

"Ladies and gentlemen. According to the Duchess of Queensberry rules, the time limit for round one has expired."

Jericho bounced to his feet. "What? Round one? What the…?"

Before he could dwell on it, Regal had grabbed him from behind and rolled him right up. Jericho kicked out on two and tried to recover his thoughts. This was bad. He'd had a feeling the match was going to be screwy, now he knew for sure. But what could he do? Beat Regal at his own game, that's what. Bring on Round Two.

Jericho was weary from round one and after a series of offensive moves, Regal locked on the Regal Stretch. Jericho reached and reached and finally grabbed the ropes, but he was weakened. Regal went for a suplex, but Jericho countered into a rollup, then turned Regal over into the Walls of Jericho. The commissioner wasn't anywhere near the ropes and he started to tap. The ringbell rang, 'Break Down The Walls' played and Jericho prepared to leave, before Howard Finkel's voice rang out again.

"Ladies and gentlemen, according to the Duchess of Queensberry rules, you can not win by submission."

Jericho froze, his face the picture of exhaustion, pain and frustration. What the hell kind of crap shoot _was_ this? If he'd known this would be some sort of multiple round submissionless slugfest he would have gone about his preparation a whole lot differently, that was for sure. But now he could do nothing but try to survive – and win against the odds. He got up to argue his point with the ref, but he was also flying blind. Finally, he pointed over at Angel.

"I'm gonna get you for this, slut!"

She frowned back at him. It seemed the party was just beginning. Jericho climbed out of the ring and approached the so-called duchess, cursing her as he went. Suddenly, he heard Regal panting behind him and turned to meet him with a couple of right hands before slamming his face into the announce desk. Regal stumbled forwards, grabbed the Duchess's scepter and cracked it across Jericho's skull. The ref immediately called for the bell, but again Finkel was deep in discussion with the "duchess".

"According to the Duchess of Queensberry rules, there is no disqualification."

Regal gloated, picked up Jericho's semi-conscious body and tossed him back into the ring. He made the cover, but somehow the ever-tenacious Jericho kicked out. He had heart, that was for sure. But heart wasn't good enough. 

Regal beat Jericho around, slowly, repeatedly, before making another cover. Another kick out. But Jericho was weakening every minute. Somehow he reversed a back body drop by landing on his feet and hit an enziguri, but this only served to knock both men onto the canvas. The ref started a ten count and made it all the way to nine before the combatants found their feet. 

Jericho was barely standing, but somehow managed to mount an offense, before grabbing Regal's legs and starting to turn him for the Walls again. Suddenly he remembered. No submission; no disqualification.

"Assclown!" he screamed, bringing his foot down between Regal's legs. 

Regal climbed from the ring to regroup, but Jericho wasn't going to let up. Not now, not ever. He kicked out in a baseball slide, smashing into Regal's back and knocking him down, right into Angel's lap. The look on her face – and Regal's – was absolutely priceless. But Jericho's laugh wasn't over. He brought Regal down with a clothesline, decked the secret service guy and grabbed Angel by the shoulder.

"Hey baby. Let's get it on."

She wailed at him in an obviously fake British accent but he just gave a sinister grin and threw her into the ring. He jumped up next to her.

"Did Benoit teach you to tap from submission? 'Cause that ain't gonna help you."

With that, he pushed up her skirt, found her legs and turned her over into the Walls of Jericho. Sure enough, she tapped. But she hadn't learned her lesson yet.

"Just a little bit longer, baby," Jericho spat. "Just a little…"

Slam! A chair cracked across his back and Jericho was down. Regal hit him twice more for good measure and made the cover. One…two…three. It was over.

Regal rolled from the ring and helped the duchess to her feet. He signaled the crowd as they stumbled together towards the entranceway and out of sight.

Down in the ring, Jericho was still flat on his back and in great pain. The ref was checking on him.

"I'm okay," he hissed and he was telling the truth. Once he caught up with Angel he'd be fine. She'd done a lot, but now she'd cost him a match. She was going to pay. Still holding his head, he somehow made his way to the backstage area. Benoit was there, waiting for his entrance. He was also alone. He just took one look at Jericho and shook his head.

"Where is she?" Jericho demanded through clenched teeth.

"She's not here yet," Benoit scowled. "But she will be. She knows better than to try and miss my match."

"Want me to go hurry her along?" Jericho asked.

Benoit shrugged. "Do what you want. I don't care. But she'll be here. She knows what will happen if she doesn't show."

Jericho nodded wearily. "Well, good luck, man."

Benoit slowly returned his nod.

"Thanks," he said quietly.

They hit fists and Jericho continued on his way.

* * * *

"Angel!" Jericho screamed. "Angel! Where the hell are you?"

He'd been searching forever, it seemed, and he still couldn't find her.

"Come on out here so I can kick your ass!"  
She wasn't in his and Benoit's locker room, she wasn't in the women's locker room, she wasn't in catering and worse yet, she wasn't at Benoit's match, which he was currently losing. After Jericho was done beating her, Benoit was gonna want a turn. Maybe between them they'd actually knock some sense into her. Surely that wasn't too much to hope.

"Angel!" he cried, throwing open the door to yet another locker room. "Get your ass out here!"

The inhabitants of the room, Billy Gunn and Test, stared at him expectantly.

"Hey. You guys seen Angel?"  
Test gave him a look that was true to his name. Testy. "Have you asked the Hardyz? She's probably with them."  
Jericho nodded slowly. "Thanks. Hey, what are you guys even doing here? You don't have matches."  
"Yeah, thanks for reminding us," Test scowled. "You wanna leave now?"  
Jericho raised his hands. "Relax, junior. Listen, if you see her, tell her Y2J is hunting her down."

"Will do," Test replied, closing the door in his face.

Jericho stared at it for a minute before heading off again. That hadn't gone too bad, considering. At least Test knew who Angel was. When he'd asked for her at other locker rooms, the other wrestlers went, "Who's that?" It was tragic, what steroids did to a person's mind. Just look at Scott Steiner and Ric Flair. Whoo! Jericho smiled mockingly at his former workmates and pushed open the next door. He had entered the Hardy Zone.

"Hey guys."

"Hi Chris," Matt replied. "How's it going?"  
Jericho raised his eyebrows. "Well, I lost my match. Listen, I'm looking for Angel. Have you guys seen her?"

Jeff scowled from his position on the bench. "Have you asked Test? I'll be she's with him."

Jericho blinked disbelievingly. Test and Jeff could fight over Angel on their own time. He had a bitch to catch.

"Never mind," he shrugged, before turning to Matt. "Good luck out there, junior."

"Thanks," Matt smiled. "We'll see you later?"  
"Yeah," Jericho nodded, leaving the room. Maybe she'd skipped town. That would be the smart thing to do.

"Angel! Come out, come out, wherever you are."  
He threw the next door open and peered around cautiously. No one there. This place sure did have a lot of locker rooms. Most people were probably watching the show in catering.

His theory was proven when he tried the next locker room. A tumbleweed could have rolled across there and not looked out of place. 

He sighed. "Angel, I've had about enough of this. I'm gonna find you sooner or later. You might as well show yourself."  
He opened the next door. Yet another empty room. Just as he turned to leave, something caught his eye and he spun back around.

"What the…?" He raced into the room and crouched by her side. "Okay, baby. I found you. You can get up now."  
She wasn't moving. She was facedown. Frowning, Jericho turned her to her side and lightly tapped her face. Her nose was bleeding and her eyes were closed.

"Hey Angel. Get up, all right? This isn't funny. Angel, can you hear me? Can you hear me?"  
She still didn't move. He leaned over and put his ear next to her mouth, listening for the rush of air into lungs. This was bad. This was very, very bad. He stopped thinking and turned her onto her back before lowering his mouth onto hers and counting in his head as he breathed.

"One…two…three…four…five."  
He checked for a pulse. Oh shit.

"Can we get some help in here!" he screamed as started compressions. "Help!"  
Fifteen compressions, two breaths, check pulse every minute or four cycles. He was surprised at how calm he was, considering he didn't know how long she'd been out. Considering this was just some shit he'd learned in high school and he didn't even know if he was doing it right. 

"Get an ambulance!" he cried as he started a new cycle. "Get EMTs. Just help!"

Finally, some people heard his cries. They took over as he sat back, feeling dazed and lightheaded. He couldn't believe he'd been thinking of kicking the crap out of her. Obviously someone had beaten him to it. She might already be dead.

They had her loaded onto a gurney and were still working frantically. Jericho followed absently, watching like a hawk.

"I've got a pulse!" someone cried and he exhaled a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. 

They loaded her into an ambulance and strapped her onto a ventilator. It was breathing for her. He nodded solemnly and climbed into the vehicle without a word. No one challenged him. They sped into the night, sirens blaring. He sat next to Angel, watching her, watching the EMTs monitoring her, and still not really knowing why. 

He did know who, though. He'd known that before he'd even found her lying on the ground. The yellow basketball jersey hanging in one of the lockers gave it away. No matter what happened at the hospital, Edge and Christian were going to pay. This time they'd gone too far.

* * * *

Benoit opened the door to the locker room and stepped inside. He'd run to the shower quickly, to savor the glory of his miracle win in sudden death overtime. It was only now that he realized something was wrong with the locker room. 

The bitch hadn't shown up for his match and he'd used the shower to think up new and brutal ways of punishing her. Or he could just send her home. He'd had about enough of her and it wasn't as though she hadn't been warned. But that was before he realized all her stuff was still in the locker room…as was Jericho's. 

Benoit wondered whether Jericho had found her and taught her a lesson. She deserved it. Still, she knew what she was doing. If Jericho touched her, Benoit would have to fight back. It was bullshit, but those were the rules. And the damn bitch knew it, just as good as Benoit did.

There was a knock at the door.

"Yeah?" Benoit asked, raising his eyebrows and his gaze to see who was there.

"Mr. Benoit?" It was a messenger, dressed in a WWF polo shirt. "It's about your manager, sir."

"Yeah, where is the slut?" he asked, picking up his gear and not paying attention to the messenger.

"They took her to hospital, sir. She was assaulted."

Benoit blinked and turned his head. "Jericho?"  
"He went with her."  
Benoit processed this. "Okay. What hospital?"

He nodded as he was told. That was typical. A lot of hospitals refused to treat wrestlers. They said if the wrestlers wanted to make a living beating the crap out of each other, they could treat themselves. Some places were okay, though, and this hospital was obviously one of them.

"Okay," Benoit said slowly. "I'll head right over there."

He gathered Angel and Jericho's things together into gym bags, hoisted all three bags onto his shoulders and set off.

* * * *

"What the hell's the matter with you, Y2J?" Benoit snapped when he tracked Jericho down in the ER. Not that Jericho was inconspicuous. He was still wearing his wrestling trunks.

Jericho spun defensively. "Hey, I didn't do it. I may have wanted to, but I would never have gone this far. Give me some credit."

Benoit frowned at him but handed over a hockey jersey. "Here."

"Thanks," Jericho replied uneasily, pulling it over his head. 

People had been staring before and they were staring now. No one had actually physically bothered him though and for that he was grateful. As good as he was to the Jerichoholics, he was in no mood to sign autographs.

"So?" Benoit prompted, taking a seat across from him.

Jericho shrugged. "She's in surgery or something. They don't like to tell you much around here."

Benoit nodded slowly. "So, if you didn't, then who?"  
"You have to ask? We both knew this was going to happen. She's a damn fool."

Benoit blinked heavily. "Edge and Christian." It wasn't even a question.

"I'm afraid so. And I can't prove it, but I think Rhyno and Kirk had something to do with it too."

"Kurt? But I was kicking his ass."

"Junior," Jericho sighed. "You saw Regal's duchess friend. That wasn't Angel, was it?"

"No," Benoit replied.

"Yeah," Jericho mused. "That's what I thought." Benoit frowned at him so he went on. "When I found her she was already badly bruised. She'd been there awhile."

Benoit swore. "So is she gonna die?"  
Jericho wearily raised his hands. "I don't know, man. I guess we just sit tight until they tell us something."

Frustrated, Benoit shook out his aching shoulders. Anyone who said being a pro wrestler was an easy job had obviously never wrestled. 

The two Canadians sat in silence for a while. Jericho had his head down; Benoit was deep in thought.

"Jericho?"

Jericho slowly raised his head.

"You can go back to the hotel. This is my problem now. I'll deal with it."

Jericho shook his head.

"Nah," he replied, forming a small smile. "I wanna be here when she wakes up so I can see her face when I tell her I saved her life. She'll hate that."

"You saved her life?" Benoit frowned.

"If she lives, yes. I gave her CPR. The kiss of life from Y2J. Lucky girl."

"You're right," Benoit nodded solemnly. "She _will_ hate that."

************************************************************************

A/N - Don't stress, it's not the end…not when there's REVENGE to be had. Please review and let me know what you think.


	46. Too Late?

Title: Too Late?

Warnings: Language, violence and ANGST (and yes that is in caps for a reason. You'll see)

Summary: Chris and Chris push for revenge, then tell some people who really need to know…

Spoilers: For Raw and Backlash

A/N: Sorry for lack of updates yesterday, I'm crazy with study right now. It wasn't just a ruse to get you all to post reviews, though you made me a very happy girl indeed with all the nice things you said *hugz 'n' smilez*. This one's for all those Jeff fans out there who say he's not in the story enough. He's in this one, okay? Happy? Lol. I like this one because I really liked the idea of Rhyno with the nachos…you can blame Hellfire and her no-longer-there site, which was the best ever, for the nachos thing. Enjoy and review!! Thanx!

RAW IS WAR, APRIL 30TH, 2001

HoH

Benoit's eyes slowly blinked open and he was hit with the sudden realization that he'd been asleep. Weird. He was sitting up and he completely felt like death. He tried to shake out his shoulders but found them stiff, painful and barely responsive. Terrific. He knew better than to sleep sitting up. Then he looked around and remembered. The whore had been beaten to within an inch of her life. He was at the hospital. He groaned a little and squeezed his eyes shut at the pain and heaviness of his body and mind. Suddenly, there was a strong smell in his nostrils and his eyes shot open again. Coffee. Jericho was there, forcing coffee under his nose. Benoit pushed his wrist away, almost spilling the hot liquid.

"No, I don't drink…"

"Just drink it," Jericho cut in. "You're gonna need it. Trust me."

Benoit glared at him, but wrenched the cup from his hand and took a sip. He almost spat it out, it tasted so bad.

"I hate coffee," he scowled.

"Just drink it, junior."

Benoit shook his head but sipped it again. The taste and smell were overpowering. The warmth of the drink roared through his veins, reviving his senses. When he was done he handed the empty cup back to Jericho, who was watching with an amused smile on his face.

"I told you."

Benoit just nodded and tried to stretch his legs. "You think it's too late to head up to Milwaukee?"

Jericho shrugged. "No. Why, you want to?"  
"I don't know." He scrambled to his feet. "Anyone around here talking?"  
Jericho shook his head. "Not to me."  
"I'll make 'em talk," Benoit replied with certainty.

In about ten minutes, he was back.

"Let's go."

Jericho stared at him quizzically. "What did they tell you?"  
"They've finished surgery, she came through that okay. They induced coma, she's in the ICU. There's nothing we can do so we should just go."

Jericho frowned. "Is she gonna die?"  
Benoit shrugged. "They'll keep her in a coma until the swelling goes down. What matters is how long she stopped breathing before you found her. If it was more than a few minutes, she's a damn vegetable."

Jericho nodded solemnly. "If she lives at all."

"Yeah," Benoit muttered.

Jericho sighed and shook his head. "Man, this is major."

"I know that," Benoit replied impatiently.

"You wanna go to Milwaukee?"

"There's no point staying here. Besides," he added, finally breaking into a modified version of his smirk. "We have some beatings to perform."

Jericho nodded. "You're right. Let's get out of here."

* * * *

"Chris!" 

Both Jericho and Benoit turned around, but Trish Stratus left no doubt as to which one she meant, stepping right up to Benoit and throwing her arms around him.

"I heard something terrible happened to Angel."

Benoit looked past Trish and exchanged a glance with Jericho. Had Edge and Christian been talking? They were damn fools if they had.

"Yeah," he replied, completely unresponsive to the gentle pressure of her hands as they massaged the muscles in his back.

"I hear she got beat up," Trish went on. "Where is she? Is she okay?"

"She's in hospital in Chicago," Benoit informed her, wondering how long he should wait before shoving Trish away.

Trish shifted position, bringing her hands up to the sides of Benoit's face and locking her hazel eyes with his blue ones. "Are you going back there? After the show, I mean." When Benoit nodded, ort at least tried to, she continued. "'Cause I want to go too. Angel's my friend and I want to like…be there for her."

"Listen, Trish," Benoit started, giving her a little push away and reclaiming control of not only his nasal passages, but his taste buds, which had until then been drowning under the weight of her perfume. "I have some business to take care of here and then I'm leaving. If you're ready to go when I am, you can come with me."

Trish's eyes lit up.

"Okay," she smiled, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Chris."

She headed off, swaying her hips and flipping her hair, almost like a cartoon character. 

Benoit just shook his head and turned to Jericho. "Come on."

Jericho fell into step beside him and sniffed the air.

"Nice perfume you're wearing."

"Shut up," Benoit snapped.

"Relax, junior," Jericho grinned, pushing open the locker room door. "What we gotta do is decide who we're blaming for this, because payback is a bitch."

Benoit nodded thoughtfully. 

"Wanna know what I think?" he asked quietly. "I gave her my word so I have to keep it. I think we blame all four. Kurt, Rhyno, Christian and Edge. We hunt them down and take them out, one by one."

Jericho mirrored his nod and broke into a grin. "Sounds like a plan."  
"Let's go," Benoit suggested and they set off.

* * * *

Rhyno walked purposefully down the hallway, shoving Doritos laced with refried beans, cheese, guacamole, salsa and sour cream into his mouth. Life was good. He had nachos. He had a title belt. Title belts were good. And it was the hardcore title belt. That was really good. He'd had title belts before, but not in the WWF. The ECW championship. He'd been the last to hold that one. Still had it, actually, because technically no one had ever taken it away from him. Sometimes, before he won the hardcore title, he used to wear the ECW belt around. That didn't go down well. He'd copped a lot for it. People just didn't respect the belt. Well, Paul E did. Paul E was from ECW. Now he sat next to the redneck in the hat. Paul E was good. He knew what respect meant. And now Rhyno held another belt, maybe other people would learn respect too. That would really be good.

Just then, he stopped suddenly. Someone was in front of him. It was Angel's owner.

"Hello, Rhyno," he said from a face that was all teeth. Except that missing one.

"Uh, hi," Rhyno replied, pushing past Angel's owner.

That was his mistake. Suddenly, he was grabbed form behind into a full nelson and suplexed to the ground. Then he saw a flash of long golden hair. Edge, perhaps? But no! The golden-haired man was wielding a trashcan. Bam! It was on Rhyno's head. Then he fell on the ground. He rolled a little as people attacked the trashcan. Then the trashcan was put right again, with Rhyno's legs emerging from the top.

"That oughta hold him," called a voice.

"One down, three to go," added the other.

Rhyno was upside down in the trashcan. He tried to move but something was stopping him. He was trapped. So he shoved some more Doritos into his mouth. He was still trapped. But he still had his nachos and he still had his title belt. Life was still good.

* * * *

Edge left William Regal's office with a grin on his face. That had totally gone well. He had his title shot and that toolshed Matt Hardy was going down, just as he should have last night at Backlash. It hadn't happened for Christian, but if Edge had his way, it was going to happen tonight – at least one of the E to the C was totally getting his hands on gold. Man, they deserved it. Not only were they the seven time tag team champions, they were also brutally good looking, not to mention the most photogenic team in the history of the WWF. If only they gave out gold for that. There would be no contest. Edge and Christian, all the way.

Speaking of Christian, it was very unusual for him to not be around, but Edge had wanted it that way. Christian was totally suklaged over losing last night. The last thing Edge needed was Christian blowing his fuzzy yellow top and reekacizing the chance at the title. So Edge had sent him to get sodas – 'cause sodas rule, and told him to meet him at the locker room. Edge loved his brother, he so did, but losing totally sucked and nothing reeked like a newly crowned loser. That's just how things were.

Boom! Suddenly, someone flew into Edge's back. He spun defensively but found himself on the ground. Someone grabbed his legs, turned him over and then pain roared through his back and neck. He knew what this was. The Walls of Jericho. So he tapped. But before his hand even hit the ground, his arm was being wrenched around, then it was trapped in a fleshy vice. Hands were on his face, his neck snapped back. The crippler crossface. Two simultaneous submission holds. If Edge had to bet his life, he'd bet it on the fact that even if he tapped, they wouldn't let him go. So he did the only thing he could do. He screamed. 

As the pain seared his flesh, one thought seared his mind.

'If I get out of this, I have to warn Christian. They're onto us. I have to warn Christian.'

* * * *

Sporting a cheerful expression, Christian closed his eyes behind his shades and plunged his hands into the bowl of ice, pulling out two cans of drink.

"We have soda!" he cried joyfully, before peering at his lucky dips. Pepsi and Pepsi. Awesome! Pepsi totally ruled. And Edge loved Pepsi – who didn't? This was going to be an awesome night.

Clicking the still damp cans together, Christian left catering and headed for the locker room, wondering whether Edge had been victorific in his quest for a title shot. If so, he'd totally win it. It was a sure thing. And then they'd get their tag titles back and become eight time champs, plus Edge with double gold. Outstanding!

Just then, his grin froze on his face. Chris Benoit was sitting on a chair in the hallway, his face expressionless.

"Hey Benoit," Christian said calmly.

"Christian," he replied.

That had gone okay. Benoit was his usual sucktacularly unfriendly self. Christian didn't trust him, but he wasn't quite past yet.

"I heard Angel got attacked. That's gotta suck," he said smoothly.

Benoit said nothing. He just raised his eyebrows. It made Christian uneasy and he shrugged his shoulders as he passed by.

"So yeah, I guess I'll see you later, mon frere," he said, before muttering under his breath, "Dork."

"Oh, Christian?" He stopped and turned back, jumping noticeably at what he saw. Benoit was standing now, holding the chair over his head. "I'm not your brother."

"Yeah," Christian muttered, quickly turning to escape. 

In the same split second he noticed that Jericho had appeared from nowhere, two chairs cracked across his skull. He dropped both Pepsis and fell to the ground, completely out cold.

Benoit and Jericho violently threw their chairs onto Christian's fallen body. As Jericho picked up the cans of Pepsi, Benoit spoke, his voice full of mocking.

"What's it they call that? The con-chair-to?"

"That's it," Jericho nodded, tossing one can to Benoit. "Conchairto. In major jackass."

They clicked their cans together in a toast to Christian and drank.

"One to go, eh?" Jericho asked with a grin.

Benoit nodded coolly, breaking into his smirk. "One to go."

* * * *

After a quick and fruitless search for Kurt Angle, Benoit and Jericho returned to their locker room. They'd hardly been there a minute when there was a knock at the door and a scrawny fetcher guy appeared.

"Revised match list," he said nervously, holding out a piece of paper.

"Thanks, junior," Jericho nodded, taking it from him as the guy quickly made his escape. 

Jericho gave Benoit a pointed glance, scrunched it into a little ball and prepared for the three point shot into the trashcan.

"Wait," Benoit stopped him. "We should look at that."

"What?' Jericho frowned. "With our relationship with commissioner assclown, you actually expect to have matches?"  
"Well, I won't," Benoit shrugged. "Right now I don't have a manager."

"Well, Angel's been making my matches too."

"Still," Benoit mused. "We should check it out."

Jericho sighed and opened the paper, then smoothed it down and read it. "Oh, you've gotta be kidding me!"

"What?" Benoit frowned.

"Excuse me," Jericho said through clenched teeth. "I have a friend to visit."

* * * *

"What the hell do you think you're doing, you assclown?" he cried, bursting into the commissioner's office.

Regal looked mortified and covered the phone. "Do you mind? I'm making a very important telephone call." He uncovered the phone and spoke into it. "I'm dreadfully sorry, mother, but a frightfully rude individual just appeared in my office raving like a bloody maniac and…"

"Maybe you didn't hear me," Jericho snapped, pressing his palms down on Regal's desk and leaning forward threateningly, right into the commissioner's face. "I said, what the hell do you think you're doing, you assclown?"

Regal jumped back with a start. "Look, mother, I'm sorry, but I shall have to speak with you later. A certain situation demands my attention. Cheerio, mother." He put the phone down and glared up at Jericho. "Now, young man. How may I help you?"  
"You can start by explaining this," Jericho scowled, slamming the paper down on the desk.

"Ah, yes. I had a visit from that young man just moments before that list went to press. Delightful boy, incredibly articulate…"

"William. I can call you William, can't I, assclown? Would you please shut the hell up? Now," he continued, taking stock of Regal's besmirched face. "Get to the point and make it quick."

Regal was now in defensive mode. "He asked for you specifically. You or Benoit. And since I have an arrangement with Miss Torres regarding Benoit's matches, it had to be you. Plus, there is the added incentive of the title. I thought that would please."

"Cut the crap, Regal. We both know why you did it. You did it to spite me. You wanna see me get my ass kicked."

Regal eyed him curiously. "Well, if you know why, may I ask how come you're wasting my time now?"  
Jericho formed a sick little smile. "I'm going to get you for this, Jerky. Mark my words."

He turned to leave, then spun back around and leaped over the desk, right onto Regal. The chair fell backwards as Jericho landed a few punches. Regal cried out and before they knew it, security guards were in there, separating the two. Jericho struggled as four men forced him to the door.

"I'm going to get you for this!" he screamed again. "This isn't over!"

Regal adjusted his clothing and set his chair right.

"I agree, young man," he mused. "It most certainly is not."

* * * *

Jericho was still fuming when he reached the locker room.

"Let me guess," Benoit said quietly. "You're still facing Rhyno?"  
Jericho didn't answer, except to pound one fist into the other palm.

"Let's go find Kirk," he suggested. "I'm in the mood to kick some ass."

"No," Benoit replied emphatically. "You get ready for your match. I'll deal with Kurt."

"What?" Jericho cried, not liking that suggestion one little bit.

"I already kicked Kurt's ass last night," Benoit explained. "He's almost learned his lesson. Almost."

"Are you sure?" Jericho frowned.

Benoit nodded slowly. "I have a plan. This one I'll deal with alone."

* * * *

Benoit sprinted down the hallway, having stopped only long enough for Jericho to throw him his bag and then he was on his way. His plan had gone even better than expected. Kurt didn't even know what hit him.

As soon as Raw started, the Olympic Zero had headed out to the ring so he could complain about the unfairness of last night's Backlash match, as Benoit had known he would. He had accused Benoit of cheating and riled up the crowd some. Benoit had just been planning on attacking him from behind, which he did, but after suplexing Kurt onto his head and out of the ring, Benoit had looked down and spotted something. Kurt's gold medals. The bitch would be lost without them. So Benoit had picked them up and, before Kurt had even managed to find his feet, he ran back up the ramp. He hadn't stopped since, not even acknowledging shouts of encouragement from the people he passed – including Tazz and Michael Cole. Now he pushed open the final door and entered the parking lot.

"Chris! Chris, wait up. Please!"

He slowed at the urgent female voice. Trish. He'd forgotten about her.

"What is it?" he asked impatiently as he kept walking.

She trotted on behind him, finding it hard to run in her knee-high boots.

"Are you leaving now?" she cried in dismay.

He didn't reply. They'd reached his car so he popped the trunk and put his bag inside, then slammed it down again.

"You have to wait!" Trish insisted, grabbing his arm.

He spun to her and swatted her off like an annoying little mosquito. "Why?"

"Because I'm not ready. I have to fight Chyna."

Benoit shrugged indifferently and unlocked the driver's side door.

"Please, Chris!" Trish cried, getting in the way of the door. "I want to see Angel."

"So shut up and get in the car."

"I can't! I have to stay for my match. If I win I get a title shot."

"You're not going to win," Benoit replied, pulling the door shut so forcefully that Trish had to jump out the way to avoid getting hit.

Trish tapped on the window, but it remained closed as the car pulled back out of the parking space and drove away. Trish stood in the middle of the space as tears pricked her eyes. 

"Come on, Trish. Don't cry. You have Chyna tonight. Chyna! What would Angel do? She'd get ready to kick ass, that's what!"

Finally forming a smile, Trish headed back inside.

* * * *

If Jericho had been in a bad mood before his match, now he was absolutely unbearable. From the start the odds had been stacked against him. A hardcore match, with Benoit having left the building. Still, he was game. Then commissioner assclown showed up for color commentary. In other words, he'd say 'besmirched' a few times, throw in a 'toe rag' or two, cause some trouble and cash his paycheck. Half his luck. 

Yet, despite all this, plus the inevitable underdog status he'd had as the match's challenger, Jericho had actually done quite well. Very well, in fact. He'd had the upper hand for most of the match. Regal, somewhat surprisingly, hadn't interfered, and he was all set to take away the title…until those two blonde jackasses showed up and sprayed him with a fire extinguisher, causing him to lose his vision just long enough to walk into a powerful gore. 

In his first book, Mick Foley had written something along the lines of "Beatings I can take, but an abdominal injury can level a man". He wasn't far off the mark. Now, about half an hour after the match, after a shower and a heavy rubdown session, Jericho still felt like anything he ate tonight would be in no hurry to stay down.

Still, even though Christian, Edge and Rhyno had gotten the last word in the match, Jericho had the last laugh. With him still crippled from the gore and having not even summoned the energy to leave the ring yet, Regal chose that moment to launch a surprise attack. Bad move, Jerky. Jericho had him on the ground in a flash and started pounding the crap out of him. It took at least five refs to drag him away. Take that, assclown. It almost made it worthwhile losing the match. Almost. It was a title match, after all, albeit the hardcore title, contested mainly by psychos and people who were too big for light heavyweight while not being up to standard in even the Euro division. And if junior, jerky and jackass really thought the rivalry was over, well, they were in for a surprise. It was bad enough that they had attacked Angel. Now, by ruining Jericho's match, they'd made it personal.

Now he was about to head off to Chicago again to see whether Angel had pulled through. He had no obligation to her personally, but she was a person, after all, a person whose life he'd tried to save. He had a vested interest in finding out whether she'd made it.

So he headed down the hall with one hand on his stomach and the other lugging his gym bag. He wasn't in the mood for this – driving for two hours and then possibly spending another night in hospital, but sometimes you had to put yourself second. Look at Benoit. He hated Angel but he was probably already back in Chicago. So what about you, Chris? Do you like her? Not as much as Jeff Hardy or Test, apparently. Maybe if she lost the attitude. She really didn't deserve to be liked. And she pissed him off constantly, but he was pretty sure that was only because she was hurting so much. But why was she hurting? It didn't make sense.

"Hey Chris."

He raised his head and blinked through the pain. The Hardyz and Lita were walking towards him, talking and laughing. Matt had spoken to him.

"Hey guys. You heading off now?"

"Yeah, now this one's done," Matt replied, squeezing Lita fondly.

"I challenged Chyna for the women's title," Lita explained, obviously very proud of herself. As if she stood a chance. 

"Right," Jericho nodded. "Well, good luck with that."

"Thanks," Lita grinned. "How about you, Chris? Are you leaving?"  
"Yeah," Jericho replied, cringing from the pain. "I'm about to drive down to Chicago again."  
"Chicago?" Matt frowned. "What's back in Chicago?"  
Jericho's eyes widened. Maybe the grapevine wasn't working as well as it usually did.

"You guys didn't hear about Angel?"  
Lita let out an exasperated sigh. "What did my cousin do this time?"  
Jericho shook his head. "She got her ass kicked. She's in hospital."  
"What?" Matt cried as Jeff's eyes almost bulged out of his head. 

"Is she okay?" Lita asked nervously, gripping Matt tightly.

Jericho sighed. "We don't know. When we left this morning, she was in intensive care. Benoit went down there right after he took Kirk's medals, but I haven't heard anything."

"Intensive care?" Jeff gaped. "She…she won't die, will she?"  
Jericho stared at him solemnly. "I don't know. The assclowns working there didn't want to tell us much 'cause we're not family."

"But _I'm_ family," Lita stated.

Jericho nodded. "Well, maybe they'll tell you something. You guys wanna come back down with me?"  
"Of course we'll go," Matt announced.

"Okay," Jericho mused. "You'll all fit in my car. We can stop by the hotel and get your things."

"No need," Matt told him. "We have a car. We'll follow you down."

Jericho nodded in agreement. "Okay. Let's go."

"Chris! You guys!"  
They stopped short and turned to see Trish, who was still a wreck from her match with Chyna. "Are you guys going to see Angel?"  
"Yeah, we are," Jericho nodded.

"Well, can I go too?" Trish asked timidly. "Angel's my friend. I want to go and see if she's okay, you know?"  
"Sure, Trish. You can ride with me," Jericho told her.

"Oh, thanks, Chris!" Trish cried, throwing her arms around him. "I just have to go get my bags from the locker room. I didn't check into the hotel yet. I'm always running late." She trotted off before anyone could answer.

"I guess we're waiting for Trish," Jericho shrugged as they stood in the hallway, baked in an uncomfortable silence.

"Chris." At last, Jeff broke the silence, his voice quiet and unsteady.

"Yeah, junior?"

"Have…have you told Test? Does Test know?"

Jericho frowned. "Why would I tell Test?"  
Jeff blinked under the heaviness of his mind, but still didn't manage to clear his vision. "Well, aren't they…him and her…Test and Angel, I mean. Aren't they, you know…a couple?"

"No."

"They…they're not?" He was stuttering badly and he didn't know why.

Matt put a steadying hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off.

"No," Jericho repeated. "Test stopped hanging around more than a week ago."

"He did?" Jeff asked. "So…that's over, then?"  
"Yeah," Jericho nodded. "She never even talks about him."

"Oh," Jeff murmured, nodding to himself.

Jericho thought about adding, "She does, however, talk about you all the time". But he didn't. The kid already had enough on his mind without having to deal with that. Especially if Angel didn't pull through. It was a bad thought, but they had to be open to that possibility. If it happened, they'd all have to deal with it. Luckily, he didn't have to think about it anymore. Trish was back.

"Okay, I'm ready. Sorry I took so long."

"Hey," Jericho smiled, doing the gentlemanly thing and picking up her bags. "You were real quick. Let's go then."

"Hey Chris," Matt called. "You wanna give us the name of that hospital in case we lose you?"  
"Yeah, that's a good idea," Jericho agreed, digging in his pockets for a pen and something to write on. Matt stepped forward and Lita immediately wrapped her arms around Jeff, the two of them relying on each other for comfort.

"Alright," Matt said at last. "That's done. Let's go." He took out his keys as they started off.

"I'm driving," Jeff announced, stepping away from Lita and reaching for the keys.

Matt drew back. "No, you're not."  
"Yeah, I am," Jeff insisted, trying to grab the keys from his brother. "Come on, Matt. I drive faster than you do."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Matt told him, his eyes clear and serious. "You're not driving, Jeff."

"Come on!" Jeff cried.

"No," Matt replied emphatically. "Look at yourself. You can hardly even stand up. I'm not letting you behind the wheel."

"I'm fine!" Jeff cried, throwing his hands in the air.

"No, you're not. Look, Jeff. You've got two choices. Either you ride with me and Lita or you ride with Chris and Trish, but you're not driving. You're wrecked by this an I'm not letting you drive."

Jeff glared at his brother and shook his head furiously, then turned and marched away. Lita quickly ran after him, shooting Matt a look over her shoulder.

"What?" Matt called out. "He's not driving, Lita."

"I know that," Lita snapped. "But you didn't have to…ugh." She scrunched her face up and turned back to Jeff. "Are you okay, honey?"

"I'm fine, alright?" Jeff muttered. "I'm not a kid."

"I know, Jeff, but this is major."

"I know that!" Jeff screamed, throwing her off and taking off ahead. "I'm fine, okay? I'm fine. Let's just get in the damn car." He kept walking quickly and suddenly, furiously, upended a trashcan. "Dammit!"

Lita cringed at the crash and stopped short. Matt quickly grabbed her and kept her walking.

"Come on, Lita," he said softly. "Come on, baby."

"My cousin," Lita whispered. "My little baby cousin. Poor Ange. I should have been there for her. Now she's…she's…"

"No, Lita," Matt said strongly, putting his hand behind her head and drawing her close. "Don't so this. We're gonna go down there and see Angel. We don't know how she's doing so we can't be worrying about her just now, okay? We'll go down and see how she's doing and you will be there for her. Okay, Lita? We'll go as quick as we can. Until then, we'll just think of her and pray for her…"

"Positive energy," Lita murmured.

"Exactly. So, you think we can do that, honey?"

"Yeah," Lita whispered. "Yeah, let's go see her."

Matt grabbed the sides of her face, stared deep into her eyes and kissed her gently.

"Let's go," he echoed, taking her hand and walking her down the hallway.

* * * *

Jericho drove quickly but steadily, his stereo turned down from its usual level but still loud enough to be a welcome distraction from what they were going to have to deal with when they reached Chicago.

"You know what, Chris?' Trish asked at last.

"What, Trish?"

"Before Angel, I never really had any girl friends, you know? But she's great. She's special. I…I really care about her."

Jericho nodded to himself as he concentrated on the road. "You should stick around, Trish. Angel really needs friends like you."

"Yeah, I know," Trish agreed. "How about you, Chris? Are you and Angel close?"

Jericho scoffed. "I wouldn't say that. She doesn't exactly like me."

"Really?" Trish cried.

"I'm afraid so,' Jericho shrugged.

"Oh." Trish took a thoughtful pause. "Well, I like you, Chris."

He broke into a little smile. "Thanks, Trish."

"You're welcome."

They were silent again.

"How long does it take to get to Chicago?" Trish asked suddenly.

"About two hours. Maybe a little longer."

Trish nodded. "Hey Chris."

"Yeah, Trish?" Jericho asked, trying to be too impatient.

"Do you know what an armdrag takeover is?"  
Jericho frowned. Was she serious? "Yes, Trish."

"Angel taught me how to do those," Trish explained. "And scoop slams, too."

"Is that so?" Jericho asked.

"Yeah. If it wasn't for Angel, I'd be in Right To Censor now. Can you imagine?"

"You in Right To Censor?" Jericho grinned. "No, I really can't see that."

"I know!" Trish cried, before going quiet. "Angel's gotta be okay. She's just got to!"

Jericho nodded. "We'll go see, okay?"  
"Yeah," Trish nodded. "Now she's my friend, I don't know what I'd do without her."

Jericho thought about this as he drove on. A whole lot of people cared about Angel – Trish, Jeff, Lita, Matt. Maybe he hadn't even unearthed them all. And yet Angel had this big old inferiority complex about not having any friends. What was her damn problem? Where did she get off neglecting these people in favor of those jackasses Edge and Christian? Like so many things about Angel, it just didn't make sense.

* * * *

Matt, Jeff and Lita's car also traveled quietly. No one was speaking, but a local pop music station played the latest hits into the night.

Jeff was sitting in the back, trying to keep his trembling legs still. Too much energy because he hadn't had a match. That was his excuse, anyway. It didn't explain why his vision was still blurry, or rather, streaky. Almost as if he was looking out through a rain-soaked window. But outside it was dry and clear. He didn't understand it. His head ached too and his mind was heavy, pressing out on his skull from inside, pressurizing his temples. He couldn't think. He was numb. 

'Migraine.' A thought broke through . 'Maybe I'm getting a migraine.'

He'd never had a migraine before, but that didn't matter, did it? They could come from nowhere, just like this one. 

'How do you treat migraine?' he wondered. 'Aspirin? I think I heard somewhere that doesn't work. Maybe…maybe…maybe I could think if it wasn't for this damn music.'

The radio was playing a soppy love song by some boyband. It was eating Jeff's brain.

"Can you turned the radio off?" he blurted. "Turn the damn radio off!"

"Okay, just a minute," Matt sighed, reaching down and turning the dial, silencing the music.

"Thank you," Jeff muttered, leaning back again. "I hate that damn boyband crap."

"Hey Jeff," Matt started.

"What?' Jeff snapped.

"You know, Angel. She's gonna be alright, man. She'll be okay. I promise, she'll…"

"Shut up," Jeff scowled. "Just shut the hell up."

"Hey, cool it," Matt protested. "I was just trying to…"

"I don't care!" Jeff cried. "Don't do it. Don't tell me she's going to be okay when you don't know if that's the truth. Don't promise me something you can't guarantee, okay, Matt? 'Cause then what happens if she's not, huh? Maybe she won't be okay. Ever thought of that? Maybe she's gonna die. Maybe she's already dead. We don't know that, do we? So don't tell me she's gonna be okay, alright? Just…just don't."

From the front passenger seat came the sound of loud sobbing.

"Nice work, Jeff," Matt scolded. "Now Lita's crying. Just great."

"Yeah? Well, at least I'm not trying to lie to her."

He shut up then, drawing his shaking legs up as far as he could and slamming his head into them. Then he wrapped his arms over his head and curled up as tightly as was humanly possible.

'Cure for migraine, cure for migraine,' he repeated in his mind. But there was no point. There was only one cure for this pain and maybe it was already gone.

* * * *

When Lita and the Hardyz reached the hospital, they found the others sitting around an ICU waiting area, looking drained and depressed. Gripping Matt's hand tightly, Lita wiped away tears and stepped up to them.

"What's the news?"

Benoit frowned at her. "Serious but stable."

Lita nodded. "Can we see her?"  
He shrugged. "I don't know. They might let _you_."

Lita turned and stopped a nurse's passage through the area. "Hey."

"Can I help you?" the nurse asked dismissively.

"Yeah," Lira replied, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I'm here about Angel Torres. Can I see her?"  
The nurse frowned. "Are you family?"

"Yeah, she's my cousin."

The nurse shook her head. 

"Immediate family only," she said impatiently, trying to push past Lita.

"Wait!" Lita cried.

"I'm sorry, I have a lot of patients to deal with," the nurse rushed.

Lita quickly ducked around and got right in the nurse's face. "No, you listen to me. My cousin is in intensive care. She's from Australia so her parents are at least a day away. She might not even last that long. You see these people around here? We just drove two hours from Milwaukee just to see her. The least you can do is let us."

"I'm sorry," the nurse said brusquely. "Hospital regulations. Immediate…"

"No, _I'm_ sorry," Lita cut in. "Because you're obviously not hearing me. Me and these others are the only family Angel has here. This man here…" She pointed out Benoit. "…Is her coach. He feeds and clothes her, houses her. That makes him like her father. And this man…" Jericho. "…Is his closest friend, so I guess that makes him her mother."

"Hey!" Jericho protested.

"Shut up," Benoit snapped.

Lita was on a roll. "This woman…" Trish. "…Is her close friend. That makes her Angel's sister and as for me, even though I'm her cousin, we've always been close, more like sisters. This guy…" She pulled Matt close. "…Is my boyfriend, so that makes him like her brother and this…" Jeff. "…Is my boyfriend's brother and he really, really cares about Angel, so he's like her brother, too. I heard somewhere that if coma patients hear the voices of their loved ones, it can snap them out of it and make them better. All we want is to see her and talk to her. Please, you have to let us. Please?"

The nurse stared into Lita's agonized face and let out a sigh. "Okay. Just you six. One at a time. And don't cause any trouble or I'll have to throw all of you out. We're running a hospital, not a zoo."

Lita nodded, relieved. "Thank you."

But the nurse was already gone. 

Lita turned back to the others, who were all staring at her. All except for Jeff, who was sitting with his face buried in his hands and didn't seem to be aware of anything.

"Nice work, sister," Jericho said.

"Yeah," Lita nodded solemnly. 

"You go first," Benoit suggested.

Lita shook her head. "No. I should go call my aunt and uncle. Angel's parents. I'm betting no one's done that. And even if they have, they'll want to know updates. They'll probably fly over here."

The others nodded solemnly. Wrestling was often so separate from the outside word, it was sometimes hard to remember that people like parents existed. But Lita was right. They probably hadn't been informed.

"So…I'll go call them," Lita finished. "One of you guys can go in."

"Jeff?" Matt suggested.

Jeff slowly raised his head. "Yeah?" He blinked at Matt as if trying to focus. 

"You want to go see Angel, man?"  
Jeff frowned.

"Yeah," he said helplessly.

Matt now switched his gaze between his brother and his girlfriend. Right now they both needed him. What to do?

Trish noticed this and leaped to her feet. "Lita, I'll go with you if you like."

Lita formed a small stressed smile. "Okay. Thanks."

The two of them walked away.

"Come on, Jeff," Matt encouraged, helping him to his feet. "Let's go see Angel. We'll see that she's doing okay right now."

"Okay," Jeff repeated, letting Matt lead him to the door of Angel's room. 

"Alright, man," Matt said softly, patting him on the back. "I'll have to leave you here. That nurse said we have to go in one at a time. So, just go in and talk to her for awhile, okay?"  
Jeff nodded dumbly, gripping the wall and peering into the room. There was Angel. She was just lying there and it was her, it was definitely her. But she didn't look right. Her face was swollen and bruised, far worse than it had been after the Radicalz attacked. But she'd been okay then. Sore and depressed but…alive, conscious, normal. Now…there were tubes and wires all over her. And machines. Her heart monitor beeped rhythmically. Beep…beep…beep. A respirator or something like it hissed. She just lay there and she didn't move a muscle. Not even her eyelids. It wasn't right. It wasn't her. It couldn't be her. It was impossible. Impossible.

Suddenly, a breath caught in Jeff's throat and stayed there. His eyes clouded over and he was blind. His hand slid down the wall and, just before he fainted, he spun around and ran. He ran as fast as he could, blindly, as his heart pounded in his ears and the heart monitor beeped…beep…beep…beep. And the respirator hissed. Inhale…exhale…inhale…exhale. And Jeff kept running, and running, and running.

"Jeff!"

Matt's voice seemed so far away.

"Jeff!"

Jeff stopped and swayed and nearly fell. Then Matt held him around the shoulders, supporting him, keeping him upright.

"It's okay, man. It's okay. It's okay."

Matt's voice was soothing. Jeff's whole body was shaking as he sobbed loudly, openly and his brother held him tight.

"It's okay, Jeff. It's okay."

"She's dead," Jeff gasped. "She's dead."

"No, she's not," Matt replied.

"Yes, she is," Jeff insisted. "She's dead."

"No, Jeff." Matt drew back and looked Jeff deep in the eyes. "She's not."

Jeff nodded frantically. "Yes she is. Did you see all those machines? So many machines. They make her heart beat. They breathe for her. They feed her. She can't do any of that, Matt. She's dead."

"That's what intensive care means," Matt said gently. "She's had surgery so she's real weak right now and she needs help like that. But I swear to you. She's not dead. She's actually doing okay."

Jeff inhaled sharply. "She's not dead?"

"No, she's not."

Jeff stepped back and wiped away his tears, nodding wearily. 

"I um…" he gasped. "I um…" He took a deep breath and tried again. "I love her, Matt. I love her. And it's too late now. It's too late." He was crying again, so Matt stepped forward with a protective hug.

"I know you do, man. And it's not too late. You know, even though she looks bad right now, she's alive and she can hear everything we say to her. So it's not too late, Jeff. You can tell her. And then when she wakes up…_when_ she wakes up, you'll tell her again. And then we'll work something out with Benoit so she can hang with us, just like before. It's gonna be okay, Jeff. You'll see."

"Yeah," Jeff said shortly, his breathing returning to normal. "Yeah."

Matt released him and gave him a sympathetic look. "You think you'll be okay now?"

"Yeah," Jeff nodded, wiping away tears. "Yeah, I think so."

"Good." Matt put a brotherly arm around him and led him back towards Angel's room.

"I can't believe I cried!" Jeff exclaimed suddenly.

Matt just shrugged. "Happens to everyone sometimes."

"Yeah, but I cried like a little girl."

Matt let out a small, therapeutic laugh. "It's okay, man. No one saw but me."

"God, I hope not," Jeff muttered.

Matt didn't bother telling him he looked like an absolute wreck. He really didn't want to know.

* * * *

Pretty soon, Lita and Trish also returned. Lita stepped right into Matt's embrace.

"How'd it go?" he asked softly.

"They're freaking, of course."

"Understandable," Matt told her.

"Yeah," Lita nodded. "And they're heading over here as soon as they can get on a plane."

"Okay," Matt replied. He kissed her gently on the forehead. "Are you alright?"

Lita nodded solemnly, then suddenly spotted Jeff over Matt's shoulder. "How's Jeff doing?"  
Matt sighed. "He wigged out when he saw her. I think he'll be okay, though." He lowered his voice. "I'll explain when I'm sure he can't hear me."

Lita nodded again and finally stepped out of Matt's arms. "So, who's in there, then?"  
"Well, that was a barrel of laughs."

They all looked up to see that Jericho was back.

"Sorry," he muttered. "I ran out of things to say."

Benoit raised his eyebrows but said nothing. 

"Who's up?" Jericho sighed.

"Me," Lita replied, before glancing at Matt. "Here goes."

He gave her a small smile and a squeeze and she headed off to talk to her cousin.

* * * *

"Oh, Ange," Lita breathed, staring sadly at Angel's motionless form. "Ange, Ange, Ange. Look at you. It just…it wrecks me to see you like this. I mean, I know we haven't exactly been on great terms lately but you've gotta know I still care about you. You'll always be my girl, you know. Always. And I don't even know what happened between us. I mean, I do, but I don't. It was so stupid but you made me so mad and it all seems so pointless now because you're…you're… You can't leave me, Angel. You can't. I don't know what I'd do if you…" She broke off and rubbed her eyes. "You don't need me talking like that, do you? I want to be strong for you. There's no point crying, 'cause you're gonna make it, right, Ange? 'Cause everyone here, they're all here to see you. We all care about you, honey. You should see Jeff. He's an absolute mess. And it's all because of you, how he feels about you. He loves you, Angel. And I don't know if he'll ever say that to you, but now I have, and I know you can hear me. He does, you know. So you have to get better. For me, and Jeff and Matt, and Trish, and the Chrises. You've just got to, honey. You've got to…"

She trailed off and watched Angel for awhile, taking her right hand in both of her own.

"What are we going to do with you, huh? You've really got yourself a problem. I knew it was there, I just never knew it'd put you in hospital. You're too trusting, Angel. You trust your first impressions like they're the Bible or something. If people are nice to you at first, you're incredibly loyal and if they're not, you hate them with a passion. You can't afford to do that, honey, you just can't. Because people aren't always the same, they're always changing. And you can't just trust what you already know. You have to be on your toes, all the time, you do. Because tomorrow, the person you think is your best friend could screw you over. And you have to be ready to deal with that, or it'll destroy you."

Lita took a deep breath and went on.

"When you wake up, I'll tell you this again. And you'll probably get mad. You might even stop talking to me for awhile. But if it keeps you from getting in trouble again, it'll be worth it. 'Cause you're my girl and we've just got to keep this from happening again. Okay, Ange?"

* * * *

The wrestler's corner of the waiting room was silent. Benoit stood like a sentinel, except for the fact that he was holding Kurt Angle's gold medals up in front of his face and swaying them as if trying to hypnotize himself. Jericho was sitting down, his head bowed and hands slightly folded. Jeff was also sitting, but he stared into space and his legs shook noticeably as Matt sat protectively by his side. Trish had been pacing, but she stopped and took in the scene.

"Chris?"

At the sound of her voice, everyone, not just Benoit and Jericho, turned and stared.

"What are you doing?"  
Benoit stopped swaying the medals, but this time, Trish wasn't talking to him.

Jericho frowned at her. "I'm praying. What's it look like?"

Trish blinked heavily at him and spoke quietly. "Can I pray too?"

Jericho was surprised.

"Yeah," he told her, patting the seat next to him. "Come sit down."

Jeff tilted his head and watched them for a second before turning to Matt, who nodded. Without a word, they got to their feet and joined Jericho and Trish.

Benoit was absently swaying the medals again. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted the four of them, now sitting on the floor in a little circle. He sighed and caught the medals in his left hand before watching the show, a frown on his face. He knew Jericho was a Jesus freak, everyone did, but now it looked like he had himself three little recruits. Whatever. If they thought it would help, good for them. Benoit wouldn't be joining them, just as he wouldn't be going in to talk to the girl. He was here out of duty. And although Lita's showing up had technically freed him of obligation, he knew the girl was still his responsibility and would remain so until the parents appeared. But he wasn't going to pray and he wasn't going to go in and talk to someone who couldn't even hear him. If she got better, she got better. If she didn't, that would suck, but he was no doctor. He couldn't fix her. Why pretend he could?

* * * *

Lita was in with Angel for a long time and when she returned she looked absolutely exhausted. 

"I hated that," she admitted quietly as Matt stepped up to meet her. "It's just so hard to be positive when she looks like that."

"Yeah," Matt replied sympathetically, enveloping her in his arms. "But the good news is she's hanging in there, right?"

"Yeah, you're right," Lita sighed. "Still, God, Matt. It's just…" She trailed off miserably.

"I know," Matt soothed, stroking her hair. "I know."

Lita steadied her breathing and wiped away her tears before peering meekly at the others over Matt's shoulder.

"Sweetie," she called out to Jeff. "You want to try again?"  
Jeff raised his head, a bewildered look on his face. He nodded slowly and scrambled clumsily to his feet. He stood still for a moment, then took a huge breath before taking a few tentative steps.

"I'll be okay," he assured Matt and Lita as he passed them. 

Matt reached out a hand and patted him on the back, which also served to propel him forward. Soon he reached the entrance to Angel's room again, grabbed the wall with his left hand and slowly opened his eyes, not knowing why he'd closed them in the first place. He caught one look at Angel and his heart stopped. His eyes started glazing over again and he was struggling for air. 

'Why did I think this would be easier?' he wondered as he heaved air into his lungs. ''Cause Lita and Chris Jericho managed it. That's why.'

He was hyperventilating now; his hand slid down the wall. He couldn't see a thing. He collapsed onto the ground and put his head between his legs – anything, anything to shake these feelings.

* * * *

Back in the waiting area, Matt and Lita heard a cry.

"What was that?" Lita asked fearfully.

Another cry rang out.

"Shit," Matt swore. "It's Jeff."

They both ran after him without another word. 

Trish waited a few minutes, then got to her feet and headed to Angel's room.

Matt and Lita were crouching with Jeff near the entrance, their heads close together and arms enclosing him. 

"You guys, if it's okay with you, I'd like to see Angel."

Matt raised his head. 

"Go ahead," he said solemnly. "We're going to be here a while."  
Trish nodded sadly. "When Jeff's ready, you can kick me out. I just think someone needs to be with her and I want to see her."

Matt gave a small half smile. "Thanks, Trish."

She nodded again and entered the room.

* * * *

"So Chyna kicked my ass, I'm afraid," Trish said. "I mean, I kind of knew it was going to happen, but I still thought I'd do better than I did. I think I needed you in my corner, helping me choose what to do. I think even if you were there, Chyna would have won. She's amazing, Angel. I don't know that anyone's ever going to beat her. I think Lita figures she can do it and good for her, I say. Maybe she can. I think if anyone can, it's her. Or maybe you. No one's ever seen you fight, but you know so much! I think you could beat Chyna. I really do."

Trish's voice was steady and confident, belying the fear and worry she was feeling. She was used to wearing masks and now was no different. 

"Oh, I almost forgot to tell you," she rushed on. "I think this is that hospital from ER, because when me and Chris Jericho were walking in here, I saw this doctor who looks exactly like that Noah Wyle guy, only hotter. You should see him, Angel. He is so fine!"  
"Trish?"  
She turned around. Jeff was standing alone in the entrance to the room.

"Can I see her? I mean, I know it's your turn, but I'd really like to try again."

Trish nodded slowly. "Sure, Jeff. I'll just finish here." She turned back to Angel. "Well, Angel. I guess my time's up. Jeff's here, so try not to give him too much trouble, okay?" She leaned over the tubes and gave Angel a kiss on the forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" She turned back to Jeff. "She's all yours."

"Thanks," Jeff replied weakly.

Trish stepped past him, reached out and squeezed his hand. 

"Good luck, eh?" she said, giving him a sympathetic smile.

"Thanks," Jeff repeated and then she left him alone. Alone with Angel. 

"Come on, Jeff," he breathed, wring his hands together. "How pathetic are you when even Trish Stratus is feeling sorry for you? Come on. You have to do this, man."

By now he was in the room, almost to the bed. The machines still beeped and hissed. Angel still didn't move, but he was almost there, almost to her side. Suddenly he felt his legs going again and his vision as well. Before he could even think of turning and running, he stumbled forward, grabbed the chair and threw himself onto it. It worked. His vision cleared and he could breathe. 

Finally, when he felt like he could handle it, he raised his head and looked at her. She really did look dead – like she'd been in a car wreck. Much of her face was covered in various plasters. Her eyes were closed. Her dark lashes were still. She was so still. Her chest rose and fell. That was all. He had to touch her, to make sure she wasn't dead, but he didn't want to hurt her. 

Her right hand was in front of him. It didn't look too bad. Not bruised or swollen. Before he knew it, he was trailing his finger along it, too scared to press any harder. Finally, he moved his wrist so that his whole hand was over hers. 

"Angel," he gasped, twisting his hand around hers so he was holding it. Her hand was warm but it didn't move. She didn't link her fingers with his. "Angel. My beautiful little Angel."

He leaned forward and pressed his head against the bed, next to her body.

"Angel, Angel. I'm so, so sorry." By now he was sobbing again, holding her hand and crying, the top of his head touching her side. 

Jeff said nothing for a long time. He just sat and cried and held Angel's hand. Suddenly he heard a noise and sat up with a start.

"Sorry, just me," called a nurse as she bustled around Angel's bed. "Just checking her vitals before we change shifts."

Jeff nodded wearily. "Do you want me to go?"

"No, you're fine right there. I'll just be minute."

Jeff exhaled a breath and stared at the nurse, who soon sensed she was being watched and glanced over at him.

"Are you her husband?" she asked gently.

"No," Jeff replied. "I mean, she used to be my girlfriend, but I let her get away."  
The nurse frowned. "You didn't do this to her, did you?"

"No," Jeff insisted. "I would never…if she was with me, this would never have happened. I wouldn't have let it. I would never, never hurt Angel. I…I…well, you know."

"You still love her?" the nurse guessed.

"Yeah," Jeff sighed.

The nurse smiled sympathetically. "You know, you can talk to her. I believe that she can hear everything you say and I know she'd love to hear your voice."

Jeff nodded meekly. "I know. But I don't really have mush to say right now."

"Just take your time," the nurse suggested as she filled something in on Angel's chart and returned it to its holder.

"So, how is she?" Jeff asked nervously.

"Still fighting," the nurse smiled. "It might be some time before we know anything, so the best thing to do is just keep praying for her. Now news is good news in this case."

Jeff nodded again. "Thank you."

"It's my job," the nurse smiled again, heading off to check on the next patient.

Jeff was left alone with Angel again. He still didn't know what to say to her so he kept holding her hand and watching her chest rise and fall, rise and fall, keeping her alive. An hour later, with his head down on the bed, one hand on hers and the other gently on her stomach as he felt her breathe, he fell asleep.

* * * *

Benoit stood against the wall, still playing with the medals. He'd been swaying them for a long time now, so he stopped and took a look around. It was late…or early, depending on your opinion, but no one had made a move to check into a hotel. 

Lita was curled up on Matt's lap, drifting in and out of sleep as he soothingly ran his hand up and down her arm. He wasn't sleeping, but his eyes were closed and he looked peaceful. Trish was sitting next to Jericho and was sleeping with her head on his shoulder. Jericho sat there, eyes open, blinking from time to time. Benoit stepped over and sat on his other side.

"Hey."

"Hey," Jericho replied, giving him a tired look.

"What do you think?" Benoit asked.

Jericho took a deep breath. "I think she's gonna make it."

"Yeah. Me too," Benoit nodded. "She'd better."

He folded his arms across his chest, daring Jericho to call him on what he'd said. He'd meant it. Maybe _he_ didn't give a crap about her, but these other people did. If she was selfish enough to die now…well, that would piss Benoit off more than anything else in the world. Maybe she'd been foolish. Maybe she'd deserved the beating. But these other people didn't deserve it. So she couldn't die. And that was all there was to it.


	47. Paging Doctor Ross

Title: Paging Doctor Ross

Warnings: Violence, mind games, language, some angst

Spoilers: 5/3/02

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters except Angel. All wrestlers are owned by the WWE and the ER references come from ER, so I don't know who owns them. But I do know it's not me!

Summary: Just a little ER crossover ;-P Hey, I wanted a sub-plot! Some ER references are really old because I only watched the first couple of seasons, but just bear with me, okay?

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews and please keep them coming. They make me excited about posting the next chapter. Just in case you didn't know, all the matches I write about actually happened on the night in question unless I say otherwise. I manipulate the circumstances surrounding them, with much cheering when the WWE play exactly into my hands, but generally I don't change much of anything. Because strictly, though I love the matches, that's not what this is about. It's about the psychology and mind games behind wrestling, as well as the tenuous relationships between characters. Lol, see, I even made fan fic sound important!!! *smiles*

SMACKDOWN, MAY 3RD, 2001

"So yeah, Angel. I saw the Noah Wyle doctor again on my way in this morning. He is so fine, no kidding. I was going to talk to him, but he was in a hurry. He was saying something like 130 c.c.s of O Negative, stat. I just love how doctors talk. They're so smart! Oh and I swear this really is the ER hospital, because I saw this other doctor – George Clooney, I swear! And the nurse who came to check on you when I was in here – just like that curly-haired woman who was with George Clooney. Isn't that amazing?"  
Trish could make small talk like that all day. It was a gift. And it was a good thing she had the gift, because today she was the only one at the hospital. Everyone else had piled into one rental car and driven the four hours to Indianapolis for Smackdown. Trish, figuring she wouldn't have any hope of getting a match, decided to stay behind.

This morning had been pretty heavy. Angel was still in intensive care, serious but stable; no better, no worse. The problem was that tomorrow, all six of them would have to fly to London for the British Pay Per View Insurrextion. They were all booked for matches and there was no getting out of it. Leaving Angel alone was going to be tough, but it would have to be done. The only thing than made them feel any better was the fact that Angel's parents were due at any time. If they made it before everyone had to leave, it'd be okay.

Despite the fact that there was no change in Angel's condition, these past few days had been surprisingly ordered. Between the six of them, they now had one rental car and one hotel room which slept four. So they'd arranged themselves into teams of three – Lita and the Hardyz; Trish and the Chrises and took turns sleeping and holding vigil. The mood was pretty dark and it was really only the schedule that kept them sane. 

But now five of them were gone and it was up to Trish to look after Angel. She thought that she was up to the task and if she just kept thinking of interesting things to say, maybe Angel would even wake up. Then they could go hunt down Noah Wyle and George Clooney together.

She suggested this to Angel. "And you know what? Since I miss you so much, you can even have first choice. I don't know which one is hotter, so you can choose, okay? It'll be so great!"  
Trish peered over at Angel's face, but still her friend didn't move. Trish sighed. Now she had to think of a new topic.

"So, I suppose you're wondering what everyone else is doing today – why you're stuck with me all day. I'm going to tell you. They've all gone to Indianapolis. They're going to fight for you, Angel. They came up with a plan. Chris Benoit's going to keep on bugging Kurt Angle while Chris Jericho and the Hardy Boyz are going to fight Edge, Christian and Rhyno. Lita didn't want to go, but I told her you'd be fine with me, so she's going to help Matt and Jeff. They'll get revenge for you, Angel, don't you worry. By the time we get you out of here, those guys will be wishing they never even _thought_ of hurting you!"

* * * *

"You sure you don't want a match?" Jericho asked as the five of them reached William Regal's office.

Benoit shook his head. "She makes my matches. She's not here. That means I don't have a match. But don't worry, I intend making Kurt Angle's night a real misery."

"Whatever," Jericho shrugged. 

He was tired and somewhat depressed. The past few days hadn't been easy on any of them and fuses were starting to get very short. It was a good thing they were fighting tonight.

"Come on, guys," Jericho continued, leading the Hardyz and Lita into the office. "Okay, assclown, I'm gonna make this quick. We want a match and you are going to give us what we want."  
Regal sat back in his chair, his expression uneasy. "Oh, is that a fact?"

"Yeah, it is a fact, jackass."

"Then do tell, Mr. Jericho. What is your request?"

"We want Edge, Christian and Rhyno and we want them tonight."

Regal took his time replying, switching his gaze slowly between the four of them.

"Done," he said at last.

"What?" Jericho cried disbelievingly.

"Your request is granted," Regal replied.

"You're kidding me," Jericho blurted. "Just like that?"

"Just like that."

Jericho slowly shook his head and shrugged at his friends.

"Well, thanks, jerky."

"You're most welcome," Regal grinned as they turned to leave. "Oh, Jeffrey? Not so fast. I'm yet to inform you of _your_ match. It's most interesting, believe me."

All four stopped short.

Jeff turned back with a frown. "But I'm with them."

Regal smirked at him. "No, I'm afraid you're not."

"Yeah, I am," Jeff insisted, glaring at Regal. "I want a shot at those guys. It's payback time."

"Well, that's unfortunate, because I've already booked you in a title match tonight."

"What?" Jeff cried. "What title?"

"You were so impressive in your battles with Triple H recently, it was decided to give you another attempt."

"IC?" Jeff questioned. "I don't want it."  
"You…you don't?" This completely threw Regal.

"No," Jeff insisted. "This is more important. This is about…this is about…well, I'm not going to tell _you_ what it's about."

Regal shook his head with mock sympathy. "I'm sorry, Jeffrey…"

"It's Jeff."

Regal didn't even skip a beat. "The decision has already been made. You will face Triple H tonight."

"No, I won't," Jeff cried.

"You bloody well will, young man!" Regal screamed.

Jeff had a sick smile on his face. He was fearless now, absolutely fearless.

"I'm not gonna show up. Hunter can battle Stephanie for the title for all I care. I'm going to help Matt and Chris beat Edge, Christian and Rhyno."

"You most definitely will not."

"Well, who else is going to be their partner? Benoit?"  
"No," Regal said quietly. "Nobody will."  
Jericho was back on the case.

"What?" he screamed.

"Now, don't you start again. I gave you what you wanted, did I not?"

"No, you did not! We wanted six man tag!"

"Well, I am sorry, but young Jeffrey is otherwise occupied."

"No I'm not," Jeff protested. "I'm very available."

"You have a title match!" Regal snapped.

"That I'm not going to."

"Yes, you bloody well are."

"Why don't you just blow me!" Jeff cried.

Regal's eyes widened. He was feeling very besmirched. When he spoke he hid his anger well. "How does three month's suspension sound, young man?"

Jeff's mouth dropped open. "That's blackmail!"  
"Yes, my boy," Regal mused. "I suppose it is."

Jeff glowed at him, then threw his hands to his sides and marched towards the door. "This is bullshit!"  
"Mind your language, young man."

"Suck my dick, you son of a bitch," Jeff spat.

Then he stormed out of the office and slammed the door. 

"That young man is unbearably crude," Regal muttered.

Matt raised his eyebrows, then glared at the commissioner. "He only swears like that when he's really, really pissed off. Just so you know."

With that, he grabbed Lita by the shoulders and led her from the room, leaving Regal alone with Y2J.

"You think you're pretty clever, don't you, jackass?"

Regal frowned. "Whatever is the matter? I granted your request. What more do you bloody well want?"

Jericho broke into a smirk. "You and me, Regal. This is going to end. I will take you on in the ring and that will be the end. Just one thing. Don't expect to come out alive."

He turned quickly and left the room.

Regal watched him, a curious frown on his face.

"Well," he muttered, pouring himself some tea. "Of all the needlessly melodramatic scenes."

* * * *

"So, I think it's going to be good, Angel. Matt and Jeff will be fighting Edge and Christian, so they'll get some more hits in for you. Chris Jericho has Kurt Angle in a best two of three falls match. I'm not sure who has Rhyno because Chris Benoit has William Regal for something called the Queen's Cup. Me and Lita have a number one contender's match. Ivory, Jackie and Molly are in it too. I don't expect to win it, but I've been practicing a little when I can. Yesterday, while Chris Benoit was sleeping, Chris Jericho was helping me with my armdrags. He didn't teach me anything new, but that was still nice of him, wasn't it?"  
Trish paused to think of a new topic.

"You should see Chris Benoit with Kurt's gold medals, Angel. It's hilarious. He wears them around everywhere and if you ask him why, he'll look you straight in the eye and say 'I am an Olympic Champion'. Deadly serious. He's funny. You can never really tell if he's being serious, but this is very weird, it's almost as if he's been possessed by Kurt and…Angel? Do that again!"  
Trish's eyes were wide. Had she really seen that? Had Angel's eyelids really moved? Soon, her face fell. Angel hadn't repeated the movement. 

"Angel. It's me, Trish. Blink at me. Please, Angel. Blink at me." She sighed. "Oh well, it was a nice thought, wasn't it? Now, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, Chris and the medals. He's so proud of himself. You should see it. I think he's planning on rubbing it in Kurt's face tonight, so I don't know what Kurt thinks about…oh my God!"

Trish frantically pressed the nurse's call button and a nurse soon appeared. Trish was hysterical.

"She moved! Her eyelids moved! Twice! I swear it, I'm not making this up!"

"I'll call the doctor," the nurse told her.

"Thank you! Did you hear that, Angel? She's calling the doctor. You're getting better!"

Trish sat down again and resumed her speech about Benoit and the medals until the doctor arrived. 

"Oh my God, Angel," she hissed. "It's George Clooney Doctor!"  
The doctor flashed her a smile. "Hi there. I'm Doctor Ross."

"Oh course you are," Trish breathed. "I'm Trish and this here is Angel. She's getting better!"

"I think you're right," Doctor Ross smiled. "But I'm just going to examine her to make sure."

"She moved her eyelids twice," Trish explained. "I saw it, I swear."

Doctor Ross turned to smile at her. "Well, that's a good sign."

Trish watched entranced as he ran some tests on Angel. Finally, he adjusted his stethoscope and straightened up. 

Trish peered at him, right on the edge of her seat. "Well?"

"I think we're going to move her."

Trish frowned. "Is that good?"

Doctor Ross nodded. "It's looking very hopeful. She's been breathing on her own for 48 hours now. We just have to sit back and wait for her to wake up. I'm going to admit her to another ward so things will be more homely for her when she comes around."

"So, she's going to be okay?" Trish cried.

Doctor Ross's lips formed a line. "Like I said, things are looking very, very hopeful."

"Oh, wow!" Trish cried, leaping to her feet. "Did you hear that, Angel? You're going to be okay! Oh thank you, Doctor Ross!" She leaped around the bed into his arms and kissed him hard on the lips. "Thank you so much!"

Doctor Ross grinned. "You're welcome. I'll just send some orderlies to move her."  
Trish nodded enthusiastically.

"Guess what, Angel?" she said, patting her friend's hand. "We're moving!"

* * * *

"Arrgh," Jeff groaned as the trainer manipulated his left leg. 

"Sorry," the trainer replied, taking it a little more gently. 

"That's okay," Jeff said through clenched teeth. "Just try to do it a bit faster. I've gotta help Matt and Chris Jericho. They have a handicap match against Edge, Christian and Rhyno and I have to help them. They need me."

"You got a Pedigree too, right?" the trainer asked.

"Yeah, so?"  
The trainer sighed. "Okay, sit up for a moment."

Jeff rolled painfully, grabbing his knee. The trainer reached for a penlight and shone it in Jeff's eyes.

"Do you know what day it is?"

"Yeah, it's Thursday. I'm not concussed," Jeff cried, slapping the penlight away.

"Just a precaution. Do you remember what you had for breakfast this morning?"

Jeff scowled. "I had a muffin. I was at the hospital, visiting my girl. Edge, Christian and Rhyno put her there. That's why I have to help Matt and Chris get revenge."  
"Of course, of course," the trainer said patronizingly. "Your girl's in hospital, I understand. Do you remember who you were fighting tonight, Jeff?"

"Yes, Triple H," Jeff snapped. "I'm not concussed."

"I believe you, but you got a Pedigree so I have to go through these questions. Did you win your match?"

Jeff sighed. At this rate, he wasn't going to be in time for Matt and Jericho's match. He'd have to wait until Insurrextion for revenge. Two days until Insurrextion. Two days too many.

* * * *

Benoit walked quickly down the hallway, a smirk on his face. Kurt had cried, he'd actually cried! And all because Benoit had his medals. This was the most perfect revenge ever. He could beat Kurt in the ring. He could beat Kurt in the hallways, in the back rooms. It didn't matter. He could beat Kurt over and over and over again but still Kurt wouldn't see what he'd done. But now Kurt knew. Oh, he knew. It was all he could think about. Those medals were more important to Kurt than anything else in the world. And now Benoit had them. Now he could really, truly hurt Kurt Angle, far more than fists or submissions ever could. The man was lost, he was a shadow of himself. It was so damn perfect.

"I'm not concussed, okay?"  
Benoit was almost to the trainer's room when he heard the shout. He burst in there and found Jeff Hardy screaming like a psycho.

"What's going on?" he asked coolly.

Jeff stared up at him. "He thinks I'm concussed. I'm not. I've gotta help Matt and Jericho beat Edge and Christian. I've gotta do it for Angel, man."  
Benoit frowned. "So why don't you leave?"  
"Like it's that easy," Jeff muttered.

Benoit just raised his eyebrows, then turned to the trainer. "He's leaving."

The trainer backed off. "I don't advise it, but I can't stop him."

Benoit nodded and turned back to Jeff. "Come on."

Jeff blinked disbelievingly, got painfully to his feet and followed Benoit from the room.

They didn't speak as they walked towards the ring, until Benoit shot Jeff a sideways glance and noticed he was limping.

"What happened to your knee?"  
Jeff was still cringing from the pain. "I hurt it in my match. That's why I went to see the trainer in the first place."

"I don't think the trainer knows my name," Benoit muttered and they continued their journey.

"Where in heaven's name do you think you're going?"  
Jeff glared at William Regal. "To the ring. What's it look like?"  
"I'm afraid that's not a very good idea."

"Well, _I'm_ afraid I don't give a crap what you think," Jeff snapped.

"Stop right there! If you take another step toward that ring I will have no alternative but to suspend both of you for three months."

Of course, they both stopped short and spun back around.

"Excuse me?" Benoit asked, eyebrows raised.

"I believe you heard what I said, sunshine."

"This is bullshit!" Jeff cried.

"Three months suspension," Regal said again.

Jeff glowered at him. "Don't you even care? Those guys beat up Angel! I thought you liked her."  
Regal blinked. "I am very fond of Miss Torres, but that doesn't change the fact that the two of you are banned from ringside. Now, kindly remove yourselves immediately."

Jeff slowly shook his head. 

"Chris Jericho's right," he spat, bumping shoulders with Regal as he pushed past. "You _are_ an assclown."

Regal formed his besmirched face before catching sight of Benoit, who was smirking right back at him. 

"I don't think I need to tell you again. You're looking at three…"

Bam! Before he even finished his sentence, Benoit sucker punched him and he hit the deck. Benoit calmly stepped over his body and headed after Jeff.

* * * *

Matt wearily used the ringpost and the ropes to pull himself up. Somehow he'd managed to tag Jericho and was ready for a much-needed break. They were battling valiantly, fighting for Angel, but that didn't change the fact that they were outnumbered. Just Edge and Christian would have outweighed them. Throw in Rhyno and it was a recipe for disaster. But still they battled on. No matter what their opponents threw at them, they fought back. They were going to win this match, no matter what it took, no matter how they had to sacrifice their own bodies. It was payback time. It was all for Angel.

Right now Jericho was cleaning house. Down went Christian. Down went Edge. Bulldog on Edge. Lionsault, a cover and one…two… Unfortunately, Christian jumped back in and broke the count. Christian whipped Jericho into the ropes, but Matt made the blind tag as Rhyno pulled Jericho from the ring. Christian was slow to turn, so Matt took him down with a flying clothesline, before stumbling to his feet. He went to grab Christian, but someone was walking down the ramp. 

Eddie Guerrero, the man Matt had beaten for the European title only one week ago. A man who himself had participated in a beating on Angel a couple of months before. Needless to say, Matt was distracted.

Before he knew what was happening, Edge brought Matt down with a spear and made the cover. However, the ref was outside the ring and didn't see. Edge jumped to his feet.

"What's going on? I've totally got the cover!"

"Hola, essa."

Edge spun around at the voice. "Eddie, dude. Check this out. We're totally laying a beating on this Hardy and Y tool J."

Eddie nodded, gave Edge the thumbs up, then grabbed his head and bounced it off the ropes. Edge stumbled backwards, right into a Twist of Fate. The ref was back in place so Matt made the cover and one…two…three. The match was over, moments before Christian arrive to bail out his brother. 

The Hardy Boyz music played and bewildered, Matt grabbed the ropes and watched as Eddie backed up the ramp. Jericho was equally stunned.

"Junior, what the hell was that?"

"I don't know," Matt replied, still watching Eddie. "I don't know what that was."

Eddie was giving nothing away. He was happy to let it remain a mystery.

* * * *

The mood was both good and bad as the five of them drove the four hours back to Chicago. There was Matt and Jericho's win, Jeff's loss, Kurt's distress over the gold medals, Jeff's knee, Benoit punching out Regal, confusion over Eddie's motives, not to mention concern over Angel. They'd heard nothing from Trish. Was Angel better? Was she worse? Had her parents arrived? That's why it was both a relief and a new worry when they finally reached the hospital. It was late, but the staff were used to seeing them. There'd be no problem. Or so they thought.

When they reached Angel's room, someone else was in the bed, and Trish was also gone.

"Where the hell are they?" Benoit muttered.

Lita was frantic. She sprinted to the nurses' station. "My cousin! Where did they take her? Where's my cousin?"

Matt quickly caught her from behind as the nurse frowned up at her. An outburst like that at three in the morning and it wasn't even the ER.

"What's your cousin's name?" the nurse asked calmly.

"Angel. Angel Torres," Lita replied urgently.

The nurse's face relaxed into a smile. "Oh, we moved her to a general ward. It's on the fifth floor, go left from the elevator."

"You moved her?" Lita asked, not quite comprehendingly. 

"Yes, she no longer needs to be here."

Lita let out a huge sigh of relief. "Fifth floor, to the left of the elevator, you said? Thank you."

She turned and explained the situation to the others and they set off again.

* * * *

Trish was sitting on a bench near the nurses' station, touching up her makeup and stressing over the dark circles under her eyes. She was in desperate need of a deep cleansing facial and this twenty-four hour makeup was playing havoc on her skin. Even her pore-refining cream didn't seem to be doing the job. It was tragic.

'But Angel comes first right now,' she reminded herself. 'And when she's better we can go to the beauty salon together. It'll be great.'

With that cheering thought, she snapped her compact closed and looked boredly around. She'd memorized the dedication under the painting across from her long ago, not to mention the poster on skin cancer. Just then she saw yet another familiar sight, but a welcome one. The five travelers had returned.

"Hey guys."

"Trish," Lita frowned. "Where's Angel?"

"In there." Trish raised a hand and pointed.

"Why aren't you with her?" Jeff demanded. Trish noticed he was limping and gave a sympathetic pout.

"Because they won't let me," she shrugged.

"What?" Lita cried. "Don't tell me we have to go through this whole family thing again."

"No," Trish replied. "But because this is a ward and not the ICU, there are visiting hours. No one's allowed in until tomorrow."

"You gotta be kidding," Matt sighed.

"No," Trish said again. "They've made me sit here since ten. That's what…five hours? I'm going crazy."

The others weren't exactly sympathetic.

"So we can't see her at all until morning?" Jeff asked.

Trish shook her head. "Not until nine."

"I say let's go back to the hotel and get a few hours of sleep," Benoit suggested. "Tomorrow we fly out of here."

The others thought about it, then nodded. Thee wasn't anything they could do for now. Tomorrow they were flying to England. Tomorrow, Angel's parents would arrive. Tomorrow, as Trish was explaining, Angel might even wake up. Well, technically it was today, but tomorrow sounded so much more promising. Tomorrow held the answers.


	48. Fozzy's Revival

A/N - Argh! 99 reviews!!! Please, please, one more! Extra special shout-out will go to whoever happens to be the 100th reviewer for this story, but seriously, big thanks to all of you - I never even thought I'd get 10 or 20 reviews, let alone more than a hundred. HardysXtremeGirl - good to see ya. Yeah, I know Eddie helping out made no sense at all, but the thing with that is - it actually happened! I was just writing up a real match there. I like to use this story as a way to make bizarre feuds and pairings make sense, but that one stumped even me. And they actually got rid of Eddie for a while after that so it was never explained. The WWE hurts my brains sometimes…but on to the story. Hope you all like this one enough to review *hint hint* lol, I'm totally hopeless ;-P

Title: Fozzy's Revival

Warnings: Language, angst

Spoilers: None (I think)

Summary: Jericho's singing brings new life, but not everything's happy families. (And yes, there's ANOTHER spoiler in the title. Hmm, that seems to happen a lot *glares at Jericho muse for suggesting that title and for bugging me until I gave him the pivotal role*)

INSURREXTION –1, MAY 4TH, 2001

"Baby, you're looking good," Jericho announced as he took his place in the chair. Lita, Jeff and Trish had already taken turns today and had even reported mysterious eyelid movements, but Jericho couldn't see it. As far as he was concerned, Angel looked the same as she had since she'd been in here. A few less machines, maybe and a couple of Band-Aids gone from her face, but on the whole there was no difference. He had a feeling the others were simply indulging in wishful thinking. True, there was nothing wrong with that, but Jericho just hadn't personally seen any signs that made him any more hopeful than he already had been. "Yep, baby. You're looking good."

He had a lot of trouble thinking of what to say to Angel. Could she hear him at all? Would she care if she could hear? Would she even want him to be there? Would she even want him to be there? Probably not. Sometimes he talked about his matches, sometimes he quoted scripture. Or sometimes, like today, he just sang. He sang loudly, not caring if he was bothering anyone. Today he was singing one of the songs that Angel hated. One of the ones she'd tried to turn down. She obviously didn't get the point. The louder it played, the better it sounded. It was an undisputed fact of heavy metal music. 

Jericho smiled to himself as he thought about all the times Angel had fought with him over his music. Every single time they got in a car together. She was more reliable for that than Old Faithful. But now she had to listen, like it or not. What would she do if she was conscious now? Of course, it didn't have the same effect without the guitars and bass and amps and drums, but she'd still be pissed, no doubt about it. She'd give him that look of death she was so good at and say, "God, can you please shut that shit off?"

Yep, that's what she'd say, all right. She'd swear, blaspheme and say please in the same sentence. Suddenly he stopped singing and stared at her. That had been too weird. He'd been so deep in thought it had actually been like he'd heard her say that, those exact words in that accent that was both endearing and annoying.

"Insane, baby," he said, watching her carefully. "Now you've got _me_ imagining things. But I'm not going to let that stop me from finishing this song."

He started belting it out again, tapping the beat on Angel's bed, even grinding out the guitar solo with his vocal cords.

"I mean it, Y2J. Turn that shit down."  
Jericho's mouth dropped open. Her lips had moved. No kidding, they had. At least, he thought they had. He decided to try something before he started screaming like a woman. He kept singing, even louder and more obnoxiously than before.

"For God's sake, Jerky. Turn it down!"

Yep, they'd definitely moved.

"Hey Angel," Jericho said excitedly. "Why don't you open your eyes?"

And she did, just like that. For a moment, she looked absolutely bewildered, but then she focused on Jericho and formed a small frowned. 

"God, I feel like death," she said weakly. "Not that I still couldn't kick your ass."

"Right," Jericho replied, unable to shake his grin. "You know what? You _look_ like death."

"Thanks," Angel mused. 

Her head was swimming and she felt so sleepy it was all she could do to keep her eyes open. There was also pain coming from somewhere, but she couldn't locate it, almost as if her mind was too heavy to properly let it through. When her eyes closed she let them stay that way, deciding it was preferable to having to look at Jericho. Jericho. What the hell was Jericho doing here?

"You watching me sleep, Jerky?" she murmured. "That's really creepy, you know."

"Why, do I scare you?" Jericho teased.

He was awash with relief. Talking to someone was so much easier when they could talk back.

"Clowns are scary. You're not," Angel informed him. "Actually, you couldn't even scare me if you dressed up as a clown. Oh wait, you did that once, didn't you?" She didn't open her eyes to gauge his reaction. She was just too drowsy. 

"I was having the best dream before," she said quietly. "I dreamed that you and Benoit fell off a cliff. Oh, did I say you fell? I meant I pushed you. And it was so good because you both died."

"That's funny." Jericho's voice filled her ears. "Because you nearly did die."

Angel's eyes shot open, but it wasn't because of what Jericho had said.

"Shit, I've gotta get to Benoit's match. If I don't show, he's gonna go absolutely insane."

"Sorry, baby. You're almost a week too late."

"What?" Angel cried as loudly as she could, which wasn't particularly loud. "What do you mean? What day is it?"

"Friday," Jericho replied simply. 

"Bullshit. You're just trying to mess with my mind." She finally took a look around as best she could without moving too much. "Am I in hospital?"

"Yes, baby. You are."

It was all too much for Angel and she lay back heavily. "Okay. Tell me what happened. And don't try to bullshit me. I can tell when you're lying."

Jericho raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Why don't you tell me what you think happened? What do you remember?"

Angel's frown was full of distrust. "What are you, a cop?" She sighed. "Okay. I remember leaving the locker room and being real happy because I had you and Benoit convinced I was going to be William Regal's valet. And I was looking for Edge and Christian so I could wish Christian well on his Euro title match. And then…then I think I might have asked some guy where they were. Yep, I definitely asked. And after that…after that…" She took a deep breath. "Oh, screw this. Why don't you just tell me?"  
Jericho blinked heavily. "That's seriously all you remember?"

"Screw you," Angel scowled.

Jericho shook his head. Attitude, attitude, attitude.

"You got the living hell beaten out of you, baby," he announced matter-of-factly.

"Oh really? Who did it, you?"  
"No," Jericho sneered. This girl really did bring out the worst in him.

"Yeah, figures," Angel muttered. "So do tell, Jerky. Who beat me up?"

"Edge, Christian, Kirk Angel and Rhyno."

"You're lying," Angel accused. "Kurt Angle, maybe, but not the others. They're my friends."

"Hey, you asked, I told," Jericho shrugged.

"I can tell when you're lying, Y2J," Angel said again, but now her voice was softer. 

Jericho said nothing as she thought about what he'd just told her.

"So, how did I get here? If what you're saying is true, they wouldn't have called for help."

"I found you," Jericho said quietly. "You were out cold. You weren't breathing. I gave you CPR…"

"What?" Angel snapped. "So you couldn't wait to get your lips on mine again, huh? You had to jump me when I was unconscious."

"Get over yourself, baby. If it wasn't for me, you'd be in the damn morgue."

Angel fumed. Her head was still swimming, but now it was worse. Now she had a lot to digest and was not coping with it too well. And then…

"Arrgh!" she screamed.

Jericho jumped back. "What?"  
"My arm, jackass," she cried through clenched teeth, trying to grab at it with her right hand.

"Yeah, it's broken," Jericho informed her.

"No shit, genius."

Jericho got to his feet. "I'll go get a nurse. Maybe she'll give you some morphine to shut you up."

"Sit your ass down!" Angel demanded. "I'm not done with you yet."

Jericho sighed but there was no arguing with someone who just a short time ago had been a coma patient. So he sat.

"So, what else is wrong with me?" Angel asked.

"You had massive head injuries. They seemed to have concentrated on your head. Most of the rest of you is okay, except for that arm. You probably broke it trying to fight back, knowing you."

Tears were filling Angel's eyes as she tried to remember but got nothing.

"It makes no sense," she whispered. "They're my friends. Why would they attack me? It just... I don't get it. Why?"

"I don't know, baby," Jericho soothed, putting his hand over hers. She pulled it away as quickly as she could and glared at him. She was so tired but there still seemed to be so much she didn't know.

"Have you been here all week?" she asked weekly.

"Well, I had nothing better to do."

"Right," Angel muttered. "So, where's Benoit? Did he get revenge for me like he's meant to?"

"Yeah, we all did. It's what we've been doing all week."

"We?" Angel frowned. "Who's we?"  
"Your friends. We've all been hanging around, waiting for you to return to the land of the living…"

"Who, Jericho?" Angel insisted.

"Me, Benoit, Trish, Lita, Matt…"

"Lita?" Angel cut in. "Lita's here?"

"Yeah, she's waiting outside. Matt and Jeff too."

"Send Lita in," Angel said. "I want to see Lita."

"Okay," Jericho shrugged, getting to his feet. "I'll go get her."

"Oh, and Jerky?"  
Jericho turned back. 

"Can you see if I can get some water? I've got something down my throat and it's making it real hard to talk."

Jericho nodded slowly. "It's called a feeding tube."

"Whatever." She closed her eyes and awaited the arrival of her cousin.

* * * *

Jericho nearly danced as he returned to the others, stopping briefly to poke his head through the doorway to the nurses' station to relay Angel's request for water as well as his own for morphine – for her, of course. Then he approached the group, who noticed his smile and stared at him in anticipation.

"My friends, she has returned."

They all reacted differently. Benoit just nodded and leaned back against the wall again, Matt and Lita hugged, Jeff clapped his hands together, then ran his fingers through his hair while Trish bounced excitedly.

"So," Lita started nervously. "How is she?"  
Jericho raised his hands slightly. "She's fine. She was talking, back to her usual pain in the ass self and sister, she asked for you."

"Me?" Lita echoed, suddenly uncertain.

"Yeah. She told me to send you in."

"Okay." She shared glances with Matt and Jeff, then extracted herself from Matt's arms and walked steadily into Angel's room.

The nurse was just finishing up injecting something into Angel's IV line.

"For the pain," she explained, giving Lita a warm smile. "I'll bet you're glad she woke up."

"Oh we are, definitely," Lita enthused.

Angel's eyes opened. "Lita? Is that you?" Her voice was weak but clear and Lita felt tears of relief fill her eyes.

"Yeah, Ange, it's me. How you feeling?"

"Well, I have a broken arm. And my head feels like someone sat on it, but…" She gave an attempted self-deprecating smile. "I'll survive."

Lita let out a small laugh as she wiped away tears and sat next to her cousin. "I'm glad, Angel. I really am."

Angel blinked heavily, against the pain and against the drugs invading her bloodstream. "So, you've really been sitting around here for a week waiting for me to wake up?"

"Since Monday," Lita confirmed. "It's been a tough week."

"Hey, Lita…"

"Yeah, Ange?"

"I love you."

Lita paused as she broke into a smile. "I love you too, Ange."

"You do?"

"Of course I do. You're my baby cousin."

"But you said…"

"Angel, I just said that because I was mad at you. You're still my cousin and I still care about you."

"You really mean that?" Angel asked softly.

"Of course I do. I've been so worried about you. We all have. Especially Jeff, he's been absolutely…"

"Matt and Jeff are here?" Angel cut in.

"Yeah," Lita nodded. "Do you want to see them? I can come back later. I mean, we have to fly to England this afternoon, but I'm sure Jeff really wants to see you. I'll send him in right now if you want."

"No, not Jeff," Angel said quickly. "I want to talk to Matt."

"Matt?" Lita frowned. 

"Yeah, not Jeff. I don't want to see Jeff."

"Are you sure?" Lita asked. "I'm sure Jeff would love to check in and see you're okay."

"Well, you can tell him that. Please, Lita. I want to talk to Matt, just for a minute."

Lita nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll send him right in."

"Thanks, Li." Smile restored, Angel felt her eyelids drooping again, so she let them and began to compose in her mind what she was going to say to Matt.

Lita walked hurriedly to rejoin the others.

"Angel's looking good," she confirmed, before stepping over to Matt. "But for some reason, she wants to talk to you."

"Me?" Matt frowned.

Lita nodded. "I don't know what it's about, but I said I'd get you."

"Okay," Matt shrugged. "Then I guess I better go in there."

He hummed uneasily as he made his was towards Angel. She was lying there, eyes closed, looking as she had the past five days.

"Hey Angel. Lita says you wanted to see me?"

There was a change. She had a slight smile on her face and looked very peaceful, but his words hadn't caused her to open her eyes.

"Angel? It's Matt."

But she didn't answer.

"Well, I guess you're sleeping," Matt sighed. "I'll talk to you later."

* * * *

Trish just couldn't get out of the habit of talking to Angel like she was still in a coma. While Lita and Jeff had held silent bedside stints, Trish just kept talking…and talking…and talking.

"So, right when I was about to track down George Clooney…I mean Doctor Ross and ask him to…you know, discuss your condition over coffee in the cafeteria. This is today, since you woke up, by the way. Not even I'd do that if I didn't think you'd be okay. Anyway, so right when I was looking for Doctor Ross I ran straight into this other doctor and I swear, it was that Russian guy, Doctor Luca! So I was like, sorry, I'm so clumsy. And he was really sweet and said something about he's a doctor, so clumsy people keep him in business. And we got to talking. He was just finished his shift and he asked me out for coffee. And I so wanted to go, but then I thought, if I go with him, I won't get to see Angel again and maybe talk to her before I fly to England. So, I couldn't do it, could I? I explained this to Doctor Luca and he gave me his number and said, 'if you're ever in Chicago again'. And I assured him I would be, because we come here so often. Then he gave me a kiss on the cheek and said, 'I hope I hear from you, Trish'. He was so cute! But then as I was walking back here I was suddenly like 'Trish, what are you doing? Hitting on some other guy when Chris Jericho's been nothing but sweet to you all week'. He has, you know and I think he's interested, but… I guess I just want to wait and see what you think. I mean, you work closer to him than I do."

"You don't want to get mixed up with Jericho, trust me."

Trish's hands flew to her mouth. "Angel? You're awake?"  
Angel opened her eyes and smiled sleepily. "Hey Trish."

"Hi! Did I wake you before? I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine," Angel murmured. "I'm glad you did. You really do have the strangest life."

Trish pouted. "I don't think it's strange."  
Angel actually laughed a little. "So you guys are about to fly to London?"  
"Yeah," Trish replied, checking her bracelet watch. "In about an hour."

"Okay," Angel said thoughtfully. "I hope that son of a bitch Benoit doesn't think I'll be going."

"Oh, of course he doesn't!" Trish cried.

"Good," Angel said softly as her eyes began to close again.

"Are you still sleepy, Angel?' Trish asked sympathetically.

"Yeah," Angel murmured. "Funny how exhausting sleeping for five days is." Suddenly, her eyes blinked open. "Actually, before I crash again, can you go get Matt Hardy for me? I need to talk to him."

"Matt?" Trish repeated with a frown. "Okay."

"Thanks," Angel smiled. "Oh, Trish? Good luck in your Insurrextion match. I know you can do it."

"You think so?" Trish asked. "Wow, thank you, Angel."

"No problem. Everyone needs someone who believes in them." With that, she lay back to wait for Matt.

* * * *

"Hey Angel." His uneasy smile held a lot of emotions. "How you holding up?"

"Just fine," Angel replied. "And get that look of pity off your face. It doesn't look good on you."

Matt was taken aback, but she was probably in a lot of pain and today would have been overwhelming for her. She had the right to be a bit of a bitch. "You wanted to talk to me, Angel?"

"Yeah, that's right. I did. Look, Matt, I know why you and Jeff are here."

Matt frowned. "Well, of course we were gonna be here, Angel."

"You're here because of Lita. Now, don't give me that look, I'm not mad. I'm actually very relieved. I'm glad Lita has you and Jeff, Matt. I really am. And I want to properly mend things with her, I do. But that doesn't mean I need you or Jeff in my life…"

"Oh, come on, Angel," Matt cut in. "It's not just 'cause of Lita and you know it."

"That's very valiant of you, Matt, but you don't have to pretend with me. I love the fact that you'll do anything for Lita, that is very cool and if you ever hurt her, I promise you, I will kill you. I also know that you and Jeff are closer to her than maybe I'll ever be. That's why I'm going to step back. I have my life with the two gay Canadians and you three have yours. I'm glad Lita's not mad at me anymore, but I know that while you and Jeff are around, we'll never be as close as we were when we were kids. So, you can have her, Matt. At least now I know she cares about me as much as I care about her. Just knowing that is enough for me."

Matt shook his head. "You've got it all wrong, Angel."

"You see, I don't think I do. I think I've got it right, that I'm finally starting to make amends. I don't want to fight with Team eXtreme anymore, but I also don't want to be a part of it. I'm stepping back. You have my blessing as Lita's boyfriend, but while you are, I'm not going to be around. I don't need that and neither do you. I caused enough trouble the first time."

"God, Angel, are you sure?" Matt sighed.

"Yeah, I'm sure, Matt. Just make sure you look after Lita. Because I will be watching you. Do you understand?"

Exasperated, Matt shook his head. "Don't do this, Angel. Please, if only for Lita…"

"It's because of Lita I'm doing it," Angel told him solemnly.

"Come on," Matt said again. "At least let me get Jeff and see if he can talk you out of it."

"No!" Angel cried forcefully. "I don't want to see Jeff. I didn't even want to see you, but I guess you're the lesser of two evils. At least you don't scream at me."

Matt cringed. "Angel, about that. Jeff was only…."

"I don't care why he did it, I don't want to see him, okay? Thank you both for coming to see me and looking after Lita, but I'm going to be fine. I have Trish and the two jackasses, so all I need from you is to know you'll look after Lita. Can you do that?"  
Matt paused, realizing she wasn't going to change her mind. "Yeah. We can do that."

"Good," Angel said softly. "That's all I want. Goodbye, Matt."

Matt sighed and got to his feet. She'd chosen her words carefully. It was very melodramatic and very, very final. 

"Bye Angel," he said quietly and then he left the room. 

When he got outside, Jeff immediately jumped to his feet, a look of nervousness and hope on his face.

Matt stopped him with a solemn shake of his head.

"Forget it, bro. She's still pissed at you."

Jeff frowned his confusion. "What?"

Matt shrugged. "She doesn't want to see you, man. She thinks we're only here to support Lita."

"But that's bullshit!" Jeff cried. "I'm here because I care about her!"

"I know," Matt sighed. "I'm sorry."

Jeff helplessly squeezed his eyes closed, before they flew open. "Forget this. I love her. I want to be with her. I don't care what she thinks, I'm gonna tell her."

He stepped purposefully towards her room.

"Go get her, Jeff!" Trish encouraged. 

Matt cringed. "This is not going to be pretty."

* * * *

"Angel! Angel, I know you're awake so open your eyes and talk to me a minute. Angel!"

Angel scrunched her face up. "Shut up, Jeff. I don't want to see you."  
"Well, that's too bad, because _I_ want to see _you_."

Angel gave an exasperated little sigh, but opened her eyes. 

"God, Jeff. Couldn't you just let it be?"  
"No, not this time. I have something to say."

"Great, me too. But wait, I already said it all to Matt so I really don't think I need to repeat myself. So I'll tell you something I didn't tell him – the reason why I don't want you in my life." She closed her eyes, finding it impossible to meet his gaze when he was staring at her like that. "You told me once…just before you kissed me, that you wouldn't hurt me. I remember it clearly. You said, 'Angel, I would never hurt you'. And then, stupidly, I said, 'I know, Jeff'. Do you remember that?"  
"Yes," Jeff replied quietly.

"Well, guess what, Jeff? You _did_ hurt me. And not just once. Once I would have forgiven, but you kept on hurting me, over and over and over again. It's like every time I run into you, you find something new to say that you know is going to hurt me. Well, I've had it, Jeff. It's got to stop. I think it's time to leave each other alone."

"But Angel, I…"

"You don't want to leave me alone, I understand. You like to play these games with me. Because of you, me and Test no longer hang out, because he thought there was something going on between you and me. So please, Jeff. For the sake of my future love life, stop the games. If I want mind games, I'll play with Benoit and Jericho. I don't need them from you, okay?"

She finally opened her eyes to gauge his response and nearly burst into tears. His eyes were so serious and his features formed the perfect frown. He'd hurt her so much that just one glance brought it all back, as if it was happening again.

"Angel…" He broke off with a pained sigh. "I…I really don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything," Angel replied quietly, eyes locked on his. "Please, just go."

Jeff just stared at her. He wanted so badly to touch her, but there was no way in hell she was going to let him do that. 

"Okay," he said at last, voice filled with hopelessness. "If that's really what you want."

His eyes had her trapped. She couldn't look away.

"Yes, Jeff. It's what I want."

He nodded slowly, solemnly and suddenly a lone thought broke through her mind. 'Kiss me.' She drove it away immediately. Where the hell had that come from?

"Okay, Angel," Jeff said gently. "I guess this is goodbye, then."

She nodded slightly. "Goodbye, Jeff."

He sighed and gently laid his hand on the edge of her stomach. She almost grabbed it and threw it off, but didn't trust herself not to keep hold. So she just watched him turn and walk away, until he was completely out of sight.

'You've done the right thing, Angel,' she told herself. 'You'll be happier, Lita will be happier, he'll be happier. You did the right thing.'

Still, that confrontation had taken a lot out of her. She was absolutely exhausted, the kind of mind numbing exhaustion that cripples you and brings you to tears. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the flow of tears, but she was still sobbing quietly.

"Angel, my baby. We were so worried about you." A familiar voice filled her ears.

"Mama?" she cried, eyes wide again.

"Angel! Lita and your friends told us you were awake. How are you feeling?"

"I've been better," Angel muttered, before blinking her surprise. "Mama, what are you doing here?"  
"We had to come, baby. We would have been here earlier, but we just couldn't get a flight."

"We?" Angel puzzled. "Who…who else?"  
"Hello, darling."

"Papa!" Angel cried. "Oh wow! You…you two shouldn't have come all this way. It must have cost a fortune."

"Of course we came," her mother scolded. "Our baby needed us."

Angel couldn't wipe the grin off her face. "So, you've been talking to Lita?"

"Yes, she's filled us in. We didn't know you were awake, though. That's fantastic."

"I always did have impeccable timing," Angel joked.

Suddenly, Lita appeared in her view. 

"Hey, Ange. Sorry to interrupt the reunion, but we have to go. We'll see you when we get back late Sunday, okay?"

"Okay, Lita. Good luck."

"Thanks, Ange. You too. I'll see you later, Uncle Rick, Aunt Colleen."

"So long, Lita," Angel's father said. "Have a safe flight."

Lita gave one last smile and headed off.


	49. Jeff's Sacrifice

Title: Jeff's Sacrifice

Warnings: Mostly angst

Spoilers: Insurrextion '01

Summary: The battlers return from England to find that Angel's made a choice…

A/N: Yay! 110 reviews, I'm so happy!!! *bounces* Thanks, everyone! And to SunsStorm, who happened to be the 100th review (yay!), the next chapter will be dedicated to you, because I really like the next chapter…not that I don't like this chapter, lol!

A/N 2: Okay, I've been thinking about something. When I started this story I never thought I'd get so many readers or that they'd all be so nice to me, so I never really thought that changing the rating would affect anyone. But now I know it will. So here's what I'm gonna do. I'm going to give two endings for this. One, the false ending is still an ending of sorts and I hope it'll do for all readers who are under 17. When I get to here, I'll post that chapter and then leave it for a week so you all get a chance to read it before I change the rating. Then I'll keep posting until I get to the actual ending, the path to which is very, very NC-17. So I hope this arrangement will make everyone happy because this wasn't an easy thing to do. Cheers to all!

SUNDAY NIGHT HEAT, MAY 6TH, 2001

The six wrestlers walked together up the hospital corridor.

"How you doing, Chris?" Matt asked. "Is your head still hurting?"  
Jericho gave a wry smile. "Not as much as commissioner assclown's gonna be hurting after I destroy him tomorrow night."

"You really think he'll grant your match?" Lita questioned.

Jericho nodded. "I intend using a secret weapon to make him book it…if she's available by then."

"You mean Angel?" Trish frowned.

"I certainly do. That girl can talk him into anything. I'll get my match. She owes me."

The others decided to change the subject.

"Benoit, do you still have Kurt's gold medals down your pants?" Jeff asked, making a disgusted face.

Benoit shrugged, eyebrows raised. "They're safe down there."

Trish broke into a sexy grin. "I bet I could get them."

Benoit turned and stared at her. "No. You couldn't."

Trish pouted, then stepped ahead quickly so she was walking next to Jericho.

"You were so great in your match, Chris. And it was for a trophy! That's so amazing! Regal…oh, I hate him so much. Hey, can I see the bump on your head?" She pored over it. "Oh, that looks so bad. I bet it hurts a lot, eh?"  
Matt shook his head at her and turned to Benoit. "Okay, so they're safe from Kurt. But do they need to be down your pants?"  
"They're safe there," Benoit repeated.

Matt backed off. "Okay. Whatever floats your boat, buddy."

They stopped together in what had become Angel's waiting area. It went unsaid that Lita would see her first.

"Trish," she called. "Do you want to come see Angel with me?"

Trish was surprised, then grateful. "Sure! I guess it's hard to get used to the fact that we can go in more than one at a time now."

"Yeah, I know," Lita smiled as they made their way into the room.

Lita quickly hugged her aunt and uncle. "We've come to relieve you. I bet you've been here all day."  
Angel's mother gave a tired smile. "It's nothing, Lita."  
"Mama, really," Angel cut in. "You know I've been telling you both to get some rest."

"We slept at the hotel last night, honey," he father reminded her.

"Yes, but you're jetlagged. I'll see you both tomorrow."

"Angel, really. We can't leave you alone."

"I'm not alone," Angel protested. "Lita's here. And so is my friend, Trish."

"Pleased to meet you," Trish enthused, shaking their hands.

Angel's parents turned back to their daughter.

"If you're sure, honey," her mother sighed.

"Sure I'm sure," Angel insisted. "Go, get some sleep. Or see a show or something. Chicago has a great nightlife. You should enjoy it while you're here."

"Okay, Angel," her father said. His daughter sure could be stubborn sometimes. He blamed himself for that. "We'll see you tomorrow."

Angel nodded. "Love you both."

Her parents kissed her goodbye, hugged Lita and then left.

"Now, girls," Angel smiled. "Dish the dirt. How'd the show go?"

"Pretty good," Lita smiled. "Hey, Ange! I've just realized you're sitting up."

"Yep," Angel grinned. "All better. Well, except for this. "She raised her left arm, which was encased in a plaster cast. "So, tell. What happened? Who won?"  
"Chris Jericho beat William Regal for the Queen's Cup, but Regal broke the trophy over his head!" Trish cried.

"What?" Angel frowned. "But that was Benoit's match. I booked it myself." 

'Not to mention the fact that I was going to convince Regal to fight for me in that match,' Angel thought. 

"Yeah, I know," Lita shrugged. "Right before the show, Linda McMahon changed almost the whole card so Benoit ended up with Angle again. He wasn't disappointed."

"And he won," Trish added. "It was best two of three falls and he won two straight. Just…don't ask him where he's hiding Kurt's gold medals, okay? Trust me. You don't want to know."

"What?" Angel frowned. "He has Kurt's medals?"

"Yeah, he took them Monday as revenge for what Kurt and those other assholes did to you," Lita informed her. "Kurt's a mess. You should see him. He looks like someone castrated him!"

"Which brings us to where Chris is hiding the medals!" Trish grinned.

Angel cringed. "You're right. By the sounds of things I _don't_ want to know. So, how about you two? How'd your match go?"

"It was canceled," Lita replied. "We were censored."

"But don't feel too bad," Trish rushed on. "We stripped Ivory and Steven right down to their underwear. It was fantastic! I swear, some moths flew out when we did it."

Angel gave a little laugh. "Sounds great."

"It was!" Trish enthused. "Best match I never fought."

"I hit the moonsault on Richards, too," Lita added proudly. "I thought you'd dig that."

"Way to go, cuz," Angel encouraged her. "Sounds like a really great time."

"Well, Matt and Jeff didn't do so good," Lita announced, turning serious. "You know they wanted to destroy Edge and Christian for you. Well, it didn't quite work out that way. They were booked in a fatal fourway with Edge and Christian, the Dudleyz and X-Factor. They wanted Edge and Christian, of course, but the cowards were avoiding them, so they had to try for the other teams. They eliminated X-Pac, but before Jeff was even really up from that, Edge and Christian double-teamed him and got the pin. But don't worry, Ange. There's always tomorrow."

Angel was feeling uneasy. "You know, Lita. You can tell them they don't have to get revenge for me. Benoit's the only one I have that deal with."

"Oh, they don't mind," Lita assured her. "Besides, any excuse they get to beat up on Edge and Christian is good enough."

"Well, I'm just saying they shouldn't feel obligated."

"They don't," Lita smiled.

"Okay," Angel shrugged.

"So, how are you, Angel?" Trish piped up. "'Cause you look good. Back to your normal self."

"Yeah, I feel good. I'm up and walking. They're letting me go tomorrow."

"Really?" Lita cried. "So you're joining us in New York tomorrow?"

Angel let out a deep sigh. "Yeah, about that. I've been talking to mama and papa and…" She paused to stare at Lita and Trish's confused faces. "I think I'm going to go home."

"W…what?" Lita cried.

"Lita," Angel sighed. "I've been in hospital three times, now. I'm stuck with Benoit. I hate his guts. I have a broken arm and the two of you seem to be a whole lot closer to getting revenge on Steven Richards than I'll ever be. I've had enough, Lita. I'm turning in my boots."

"But, you can't go!" Trish protested.

"I'm sorry, Trish," Angel said softly. "But I'm so tired. It takes so much energy watching your own ass all the time, not to mention plotting the downfall of my mortal enemies. My parents are scared to death I'm going to get hurt again and frankly, so am I. And you know you can't head out there if you fear getting hurt."

"But I'll miss you," Trish told her sadly.

"I'll miss you too, Trish. But the two of you can hang out once I'm gone."

Trish and Lita looked at each other, both knowing that wasn't going to be happening.

Lita frowned down at her cousin. "Are you sure, Ange?"  
"Yeah, I am. It's been fun while it lasted, but I really can not wait to get back to Australia and my relatively normal life."

"There's nothing we can do to change your mind?" Trish pouted.

Angel shook her head. "I'll write you guys. I'll find out on WWF.com where you're going to be and send a paper trail."

Trish smiled tearfully. "That'd be nice."

"Well, you know, Ange," Lita started. "You'll always have a home in the WWF."

"Thanks," Angel smiled. "I know that's not true, but thanks." She suddenly let out a huge yawn.

"Sleepy much?" Lita teased.

"I know, it's disgusting," Angel sighed, lying back as best she could. "I still get tired really easy. It must come from being hit in the head."

"You want to take a nap?" Trish frowned.

Angel yawned again at the mention of the word 'nap'. "That sounds like a good idea."

"Okay, we'll leave you to sleep," Lita told her. "We'll come back tomorrow to say goodbye."

Angel nodded sleepily and closed her eyes. "Can you send the nurse in to put this bed back down?"

"Sure," Lita smiled. "See you tomorrow, Ange."

"Bye Angel," Trish added.

They headed outside to update the others.

"She's taking a nap now," Lita announced. "And visiting hours will be over soon. We should all just try and kill our jetlag and come back tomorrow before we fly out."

"Is she going to be better soon?" Jeff asked anxiously, before he could stop himself.

"Yeah," Lita replied sullenly. "They're discharging her tomorrow."

"And that's a bad thing, babe?" Matt asked with a confused frown.

"Yeah, it's bad for the bitch," Benoit muttered. "She'll have to start working for me again."

Lita slowly shook her head. "She's not coming back with us."  
"What?" cried the four who didn't already know.

Trish let Lita explain.

"She's had enough of being beaten up. She's going home."

"So she's just going to run away," Benoit scowled. "Typical."

"Hey, don't be a jerk," Lita snapped. "She's been through a lot. It's Angel's choice. Just deal with it."

Still stunned, Jeff was slowly shaking his head. "She's leaving."

The others looked around amongst themselves, wondering if he was going to start crying again. But he didn't. He just kept shaking his head and staring at his feet.

"She can't leave. I haven't told her yet. I haven't told her…how I feel about her."

"So tell her," Matt cut in.

Jeff looked up at him, but took a long time to focus. "What good would it do now?"  
"You could make her stay," Jericho encouraged. "She likes you too, junior."

"No," Jeff said softly. "She doesn't give a damn about me. I'm just gonna have to…let her go."

"No, Jeff," Matt said so sharply that Jeff jumped and turned to him with an accusatory glare. "You're gonna tell her and you're gonna do it now."

"Matt, she's leaving. There's nothing I can do. She's made her choice."

"Then what have you got to lose? Nothing, that's what. So get in there, bite the bullet and say, 'Angel, I love you. You can't leave me'."

Jeff was still giving him a skeptical look.

"Do it, Jeff."

Jeff let out an exasperated sigh.

"Fine. I'll do it."

He nearly turned back four times in the short distance to her room, but somehow made it to her side. Her eyes were closed. She looked so peaceful. Maybe he should just leave. He could tell her tomorrow. They were coming back then. 

For a while he just watched her, knowing there wouldn't be anymore moments like this, where he could just stare at her and commit every feature to memory. Her full lips, slightly turned up nose, long dark lashes, the outline of her body under the blankets. Tomorrow he would have to say goodbye. But tonight he could watch her and remember all the crazy things she used to do, before it all went wrong.

"Angel," he whispered, so quietly he wasn't sure he'd said it at all. "I love you, Angel."

She slept on, her mouth forming a serene smile.

"I thought I lost you once already this week," Jeff went on, still barely audible. "Please, Angel. Please don't go. If you don't want to be with me right now, I understand. But stay. I need you, even if it's just to know you're around. Please, Angel. Don't leave me."

He reached out a hand and lowered it to caress her face, then smiled as she moved against it slightly. Then he slid it down slowly, gently, over her shoulder, down her arm to her hand. Though she was still asleep, she linked her fingers with his and murmured quietly, no words, but she sounded content. Jeff sighed as he gently stroked her hand with his thumb, then slowly, carefully lifted it towards his face. 

"I love you, Angel," he whispered again, pressing his lips to the back of her hand.

Suddenly, her hand sailed back, then forward and backhanded him across the face. He jumped back as her eyes flew open and focused their confusion on him.

"Jeff," she muttered, smile having transformed to a frown. "What are you doing here?"  
He shrugged and perched on the side of her bed. "Lita told us you were leaving and…"

"And you thought you'd talk me out of it?" Angel guessed. "I appreciate that you'd try to do that for Lita, but I've made my peace with her and I've made my choice. You're not going to change my mind."

Jeff shook his head slowly. "That's it, huh?"

"Yeah, Jeff. That's it."

"You're just going to pack up and leave," Jeff went on, a lot more testily than he meant.

"That's right," she replied, just as testily. "I am."

"Well," Jeff sighed. "I think you're making the right choice."

Angel was stunned. "You do?"  
"I do, Angel. This world…it's no place for a woman. You're right to want to get out."

"What?" Angel frowned. "No place for a woman? What about Lita?"

"Lita's been around wrestling for years," Jeff told her. "It was her dream. What I mean is it's no place for a woman like you."

"Like what, Jeff? What does that mean?"  
"I mean you're sweet, you're fragile and…"

"Bullshit, Jeff!" Angel cried. "I'm about as fragile as a Sherman tank!"

"No you're not," Jeff argued, giving her a strange look. "You're soft and gentle and…"

"The hell I am!" Angel interrupted. "What's the matter with you, Jeff? I'm just like Lita. A hard, tough, hardcore bitch."

Jeff was taken aback. "You're nothing like Lita. She's a wrestler, a grappler, a high flyer. She belongs in this world. You, well, you'll be much better off once you're home again with your friends. You won't have to worry about booking matches or training for hours every day, or getting hurt."

"I know what you're doing," Angel scowled. "You're trying to get me to stay."

"No." Jeff shook his head calmly. "I'm looking out for you. I care about you, Angel. We were friends once, we had some good times and…"

"I don't need you to look out for me," Angel snapped.

"Well, someone has to," Jeff shrugged.

"Uh uh." Angel shook her head. "I can take care of myself. That's why I made this choice."

"Whatever," Jeff muttered.

"What? Did you just 'whatever' me?"

"Yeah, I guess I did. You deserved it. You're spinning crap with me."

"No, I'm not."

"Sure, you are. What's got into you? You never used to lie to me."

"Maybe I did and you just didn't figure it out."

"Whatever," Jeff said again. "I don't need this."

"You think I do?" Angel cried.

Jeff stood up, hands in the air. "Just…just go home, Angel. You belong there. You're too damn weak for this business. Just admit it, okay?"

"I'm not weak!" Angel protested.

"Keep telling yourself that, Angel. Maybe then it'll be true. I've had this, I'm outta here."

With that, he stormed out.

"Asshole!" Angel cried. 

So Jeff thought she was weak, huh? That she was fragile too? Well, she hadn't been training with Chris Benoit for three months for nothing. Oh no, Angel? So why are you going home? 'Cause I'm tired, that's why. So get some sleep, get up in the morning and kick some ass! What have you accomplished? Nothing of what you wanted to, that's for sure. Have you beaten Steven Richards? No. Have you beaten Benoit? No. Even Chris Jericho? No. Did you get your contract? Not even close. If you go home now, what will you take with you? A broken arm and four months of your life you'll never have back. Nothing else. You can't leave, Angel. That's what they all expect you to do. Always keep them guessing, girl. Then no one will ever get the best of you. It was really the closest thing to a philosophy she had, and yet she was about to go against it. 

'Keep your philosophy next to your heart,' she told herself. 'Otherwise you're left with nothing.'

She sighed, having well and truly changed her mind.

"My parents are gonna kill me."

* * * *

Jeff stepped darkly past the others.

"Come on," he called to Matt and Lita. "We're leaving."

"What happened?" Lita asked nervously as she and Matt ran to keep up with Jeff.

"She's staying,' Jeff replied. "So you can all thank me later."

"You told her?" Matt asked, but got no response. "Jeff, did you tell her?"

"No, I didn't tell her, okay?" Jeff cried.

"Well, go back and tell her, then," Matt advised. "She's still there."

"Trust me," Jeff muttered. "She doesn't want to see me and I don't think she's going to for quite a while."

"Oh, Jeff," Angel said sympathetically.

"Forget about it," Jeff rushed on. "She's staying. Be happy. I made her stay. And maybe someday she'll actually be willing to look at me again without acting like I'm dirt. 'Cause that would really, truly make me happy.


	50. Caged Retribution

Title: Caged Retribution

Warnings: Language, violence, minor angst, adult themes

Spoilers: Some for Insurrextion, plus Raw, with direct dialogue from Chris Benoit, Edge and Christian

Summary: Jericho wants to end his feud with William Regal…inside a steel cage. Angel sees her chance to get away from Benoit for a night and jumps on it.

A/N: Yay, Chapter 50 :-) I really like this one…hope you see why later. It's for the writer of my hundredth review, SunsStorm, and for Em, Drea, and Melissa who know who they are, just because, well, I luv you guys!

A/N 2 - Yes, Angel does have remarkable healing powers…but then, most WWE superstars seem to, lol. And as for my email address? Um, I actually posted it in a previous chapter, but if you missed it, it's lyndelle@chariot.net.au Cheers all, and please review, I love hearing your thoughts and ideas!

RAW IS WAR, MAY 7TH, 2001

Triple H was standing in the ring, a look of outrage on his face and a microphone in his hand.

"Benoit!" he screamed. "You headbutted my wife, now I want your ass!"  
'Shooter' played and Benoit calmly stepped out onto the stage, evil smirk on his face, ready for his rebuttal. He gripped the microphone and opened his mouth but suddenly, before he could say anything, someone pushed him and he was falling. There was a huge splash as he landed facedown in the wading pool the broads used for those damn evening gown matches. There was one going on right now, but they weren't fighting each other; they were holding him down, holding him under. There may have only been a foot of water, but he was facedown and trapped. He couldn't move. He flailed his arms wildly, but he was drowning, drowning…

Benoit sat up with a start. What a nightmare! Being caught in the middle of an evening gown match and held down by five semi-naked dripping wet broads as they tried to drown him. It was a disgrace to wrestling, that's what it was. Lucky it had only been a dream, he thought, wiping the water from his face. What the…? He was soaking wet and above him, Angel was standing with a Big Gulp-sized cup in her hand and a smirk on her face.

Benoit leaped to his feet and glowered at her. "What the hell's the matter with you?"  
"Hey, I called you four times," she protested. "I had to wake you up somehow."  
"So you poured half a gallon of water on me?" Benoit screamed, racing into the bathroom and grabbing a towel. "What's the matter with you?"

"Look on the bright side," Angel smirked. "I could have put your hand in warm water. We all know what that does."

"Bitch," Benoit spat, tearing off his shirt and hunting for a dry one. "What do you want, anyway?"  
"Come on, Benoit," Angel teased. "You should be happy to have me back to normal."  
Benoit caught her gaze and glared at her. "What do you want?"

Angel was unfazed. "I haven't trained in a week. I want to get back in the ring. And since we didn't train this morning…"

"I trained this morning," Benoit scowled. 

"Well, I didn't. And that's our deal. You coach me, I manage you. Remember?"

"You have a broken arm," Benoit reminded her.

"True, but so does Kane," Angel shot back.

"You're not Kane."

"No, and if you don't start training me again, I never will be."

Benoit let out an exasperated sigh. "Get moving."

Angel grinned. "Why were you sleeping, anyway? It's the middle of the day. That's not like you."

Benoit turned back with one last glare. "I flew to England and back in three days. I'm jetlagged. Yes, I get jetlagged."

Angel shrugged. "You know, a better cure for jetlag is to sleep normal hours. That's what you should do."

"Princess," Benoit said evenly, shooting her a glare over his shoulder. "Never correct me."

Angel just grinned and followed him. Benoit was a jackass and her arm was broken, but it was surprisingly good to be back.

* * * *

Angel sat across from Benoit in the hotel restaurant as they ate a late lunch. She was feeling tired and sore but was undergoing that great adrenaline rush she only got after a good workout. Benoit hadn't let her get away with anything and her broken arm was a real disadvantage, but she still felt fantastic.

'What's the definition of a masochist?' she asked herself. 'Probably you, girl.'

"So, what time are we heading over to the arena?" Angel asked. 'Because I was thinking I might put in some more time at the gym. You know, to catch up what I've missed."

"We're not," Benoit replied solemnly.

"Excuse me? I guess I must have worse head injuries than I thought 'cause I swear you just said we're not going to the arena tonight."

"That's right," Benoit nodded. "We will be eating at WWF New York tonight."

Angel frowned as the wrongness of this statement washed over her. "Firstly, um, no, and secondly…you don't want a match? Are you serious?"

Benoit nodded again.

"Okay." Angel blinked heavily. "Can I ask why?"  
"I have something that's worth more than a match," Benoit replied coolly. "Olympic Gold."

"That's funny," Angel told him, smiling sarcastically. "I don't think I heard 'O Canada' blaring across the hospital PA system at any point in time."

"You were comatose," Benoit reminded her.

"Oh really?" Angel cried. "Because I thought what happened was I had to talk to you for half an hour so I started beating my head against the wall until I knocked myself out. And this," she went on, raising her left arm. "Is just one of those little accessories that all the kids are wearing."

Benoit broke eye contact and concentrated on his food.

Angel sighed and turned to her own plate. "So, where are you keeping them?"  
"Someplace safe," Benoit replied.

Angel looked up with a start. "You sick son of a bitch. They're down your pants, aren't they?"  
Benoit held her gaze and nodded coolly. 

Angel dry retched as a look of pure disgust passed over her face and she threw down her fork. "Oh God, Benoit. It's lunchtime!"  
"You asked," Benoit shrugged.

"Yeah, and now I can't eat! God!"

"Cut the crap and eat your food," Benoit growled.

Angel sighed and picked up her fork. 

"Why there?" she asked, still sick to her stomach.

"Because they're safe," Benoit said again.

"True," Angel nodded. "I mean, who's gonna venture down there? Other than Jericho, I mean." She smirked at Benoit as he formed his glare. "Speaking of Jericho, what's he doing tonight? Joining you in a romantic dinner for two? Blowing off work before you blow…"

"Shut up," Benoit cut in before she could even say it.

Angel smiled sweetly. She was quite prepared to take any victory she could get. 

"Jericho is challenging Regal tonight," Benoit explained.

"Good luck," Angel sneered. "There's no way Regal's gonna be up for that. Not after what happened in London."

Benoit stared at her curiously before speaking. "Do you want to come to WWF New York tonight?"

Angel frowned. "You're giving me a choice?"  
Benoit nodded.

"Then hell no, I don't. I'd rather drink paint."

Benoit nodded again, still cool. "Then you can go to the arena with Jericho and convince Regal to make his match. You don't have to valet for him."

Angel cocked her head inquisitively.

"Don't worry, you'll get paid. If you make the match," Benoit preempted her.

"And if I want to valet for someone else?"  
"Normal rules apply."

Angel nodded thoughtfully. "So, you want me to work for Jericho tonight?"  
Benoit blinked heavily. "He saved your life. It's the least you can do."

Angel thought about it. She didn't like Jericho any more than she liked Benoit, but Benoit was right, he had saved her life. Like it or not, she was indebted to him. All he wanted was a match with Regal. She was almost certain she could make that happen. And then she wouldn't have to feel like she owed him anymore. She wouldn't have to feel anything. Plus, because Benoit wouldn't be around, she'd be free to do as she chose. She would even be able to get Regal to pay up on his promised challenge to Benoit – another freedom match.

"Fine," she said to Benoit. "I don't see any problem with that. I'll go with Jericho."

"Okay," Benoit nodded. "He'll collect you when he's ready to go."

"Super," Angel enthused. "I'll be happy just so long as he doesn't go fishing for medals."

* * * *

Almost as soon as the car and the stereo roared into life, Angel turned down the volume. Jericho shot her a deadly glare but she held her ground.

"We need to talk and I need to be able to think. So sorry, buddy, but this is as loud as it's gonna be."

"Okay," Jericho murmured, pulling out into traffic. "Go for it."

"What kind of match do you want?" Angel asked, all business. "Because I'm ninety percent sure I can get it for you, we just have to work out what it is you want."

Jericho let out a sigh which he hoped wasn't audible. He knew it had had been too much to imagine that she would thank him for saving her life. But she was ready to do his bidding, at least on a minor level. He had to take advantage of that.

"I want a steel cage match."

Angel let out a surprised laugh. "You're kidding, right?"  
Jericho scowled. "No, sister, I'm not. You get me a steel cage match with William Regal."

"Are you completely out of your mind?" Angel cried, still laughing.

"Maybe," Jericho shrugged. "Or maybe I want to give you a challenge. If you can get commissioner assclown to agree to a steel cage match with me, you can do anything."

"Well, you're right about that," Angel told him. "I _can_ do anything."

"Good. So get me my match."

"Jerky," Angel said, confident smile still on her lips. "It's as good as done."

* * * *

"Miss Torres! You're back!"  
Angel gave a smile and raised her hands. "Surprise."

"I _am_ surprised," Regal agreed. "It just hasn't been the same around here without your smiling face."

"Aw, thanks," Angel grinned. "But anyway, I need a match."

"Of course," Regal agreed, turning to his clipboard. "Who does Mr. Benoit want tonight?"

"Benoit's taking the night off," Angel informed him. "I'm here about a match for Jericho."

"That toe rag?" Regal cried. "You're under the employ of that miserable wretch?"

Angel shook her head calmly "I still work for Benoit. I just heard a rumor that Jericho wanted you in a steel cage match and…"

"A what?" Regal demanded.

"I know. He's crazy. He clearly has no idea what you could do to him in one of those."

"And he honestly believes I'd agree to such a match?" Regal asked.

"Well, I think you should," Angel shrugged.

"You…you do?"

"Most definitely. Now I might not have been exactly lucid but I heard you destroyed him at Backlash. I also heard he got a lucky win at Insurrextion, in your home country. Don't you want revenge?"  
"Of course, but…"

"Then this is perfect!" Angel grinned. "Steel cage match. No DQ. Just like Backlash. You're a shoo-in. And I have Jericho's word. After this match, the feud is over. You won't have to worry about besmirchment of his kind anymore."

"Is that so?" Regal frowned.

Angel nodded. "It's a win-win situation for you, commish. Plus, I'd be there to make sure you won."

"You would?"

"Yep. Remember you took a raincheck on my valet services at Backlash? Well, I think tonight, in a match such as this, when I could really help out, it being no DQ and all, would be a really good time to cash in."

Regal thought about this. "Are you sure I should sign this match?"  
"Of course. The fans would love it."

"The fans," Regal repeated. "Well, there's no arguing with my friends the fans, is there?"  
Angel slowly shook her head. 

"Okay," Regal nodded. "You may tell the miserable toe rag he has his match."

"Yes," Angel cheered. "Y2J is going down!"

Despite her good mood, Angel had made no move to leave, something Regal noticed.

"Is there something else, Miss Torres?"

"Yeah," Angel nodded. "I was wondering when you were planning on taking on Benoit and setting me free."

Regal frowned but said nothing.  
"You said you'd do it," Angel went on. "If I made the card on the Smackdown before Backlash and you approved it. Well, I did and you did. So, when's it to be?"  
Regal frowned. "Miss Torres, I'm aware of what I said, but I'm afraid it isn't that simple."

"Why not?" Angel asked. "You could do it Thursday, no problem."  
"I may be in no condition to fight on Thursday after a cage match tonight," Regal informed her.

"That's true," Angel nodded. "And we have to make you win. How about Sunday on Heat?"  
"It's not that simple," Regal repeated. "I have many factors to consider – the wants and needs of other superstars, not to mention those of Mr. McMahon. I'm simply unable to plan that far ahead."

Angel frowned. "You're not going to fight him, are you? Come on, Regal. I need this. You're my last hope and…"

"I will fight him!" Regal snapped. "I made you a promise, did I not? There are many pressures of this job that you don't understand and they have to be taken into account. I will fight Benoit as soon as is humanly possible and not a second before. Is that clear?"

"Yes," Angel pouted. "I'm sorry."

"That's quite alright, Miss Torres, but you mustn't push this. I understand your urgency but this is out of my hands."  
"Okay," Angel replied quietly. "Just…keep me informed, okay?"  
"Of course," Regal told her. "Have a good evening, Miss Torres and I'll see you when it's time for my match."

Angel nodded solemnly. "Yep. See you then."

She sighed and headed to the door. That hadn't exactly gone brilliantly, but at least she'd done her job. Jericho had his cage match. That ended Angel's obligation to him. Now she was free to hang out with her friends…oh, wait. Edge, Christian and Rhyno were no longer her friends. She was having a lot of trouble getting used to that. Oh well, at least she'd made up with Lita…but Lita would be with Matt and Jeff. Angel sighed. There was always Trish. She smiled at this thought and opened the door to Regal's office, before noticing she was face to face with Chris Jericho.

"You know, I could have met you back at the locker room," she said irritably.

"No," Jericho shook his head. "Benoit told me to look out for you."

"Great," Angel muttered. "Well, as sweet as it is for you to offer your baby-sitting services, I'm a big girl and I can take care of myself."

"Sorry, baby," Jericho shrugged. "But I can't let you do that."

Angel scowled, knowing Benoit was to blame for this.

"Alright. Whatever." She started walking by his side.

"So?" Jericho asked.

"What?" Angel replied evasively.

"My match. Did you get it?"  
"Of course I got it. Steel cage match, just like you wanted."

Jericho nodded, impressed. "Congratulations."  
"Don't get too excited," Angel warned. "You're not going to win."  
"Oh, is that so?"  
"Yeah, Jerky, it's so. Benoit told me I could valet for anyone I want. I chose William Regal. So you will lose. I'm gonna make sure of it."

"You what?" Jericho grumbled, raising his eyebrows.

"You heard me," Angel smiled sweetly.

"So, you're actually gonna valet for him this time and not just say you are?"  
Angel broke into a grin. "Oh, you liked that little game I played with you at Backlash, did you? I thought you would."

"I'll have you know I put some random British chick in the Walls of Jericho because I thought she was you," Jericho informed her.

Angel laughed. "Then you're even denser than I thought. Geez, Jerky. Get a clue."

Jericho was about to protest, but at that moment they turned a corner and nearly walked into Edge and Christian. Angel's former friends froze and stared at Angel as though they'd seen a ghost.

"That's right, I'm back," she grinned. "How you guys doing, anyway?"  
Edge and Christian looked at each other and then back at Angel. 

"Fine," Edge replied uneasily. 

"Great!" Angel enthused. "Listen, I've gotta go now, but I'll definitely see you guys round. Later."

"Bye," Edge and Christian echoed.

Angel turned to Jericho as they continued walking. "Well, that was fun."

"You're not afraid of those guys?" Jericho frowned.

"Hell no," Angel shrugged. "It just gives me license to be a bitch to everyone."

Jericho rolled his eyes. "Remind me to thank them later."

"Don't worry," Angel smiled, purposely taking him literally. "I will."

* * * *

Angel sat on her bench, watching the rest of Raw on the TV as Jericho loosened up for his match. Kurt Angle was battling Bradshaw from the APA when 'Shooter' played and Benoit appeared on the Titantron, digging into a typically nutritious meal. A maitre'd stopped by his table to ask if everything was okay.

Benoit smirked. 

"I couldn't ask for more," he replied. "Hey, what kinds of credit cards do you guys accept here? To be more specific. Do you accept gold?"

He held up the gold medals.

Angel cringed. "Oh God. You know where he pulled those from, don't you?"  
Jericho laughed from where he was stretching on the floor. "You want him bad, baby. You _wish_ you were those gold medals."

Angel's stomach turned as she glowered at him. "And you wish you were Triple H. What's your point?"  
She turned back to the TV, not noticing Jericho's glare. Bradshaw had just hit his clothesline from hell, but Kurt had hit the ground running, and running, and running, up the ramp and out of sight.

"Hmm," Angel mused. "I guess that means Bradshaw won. I'll have to find him and flash him as a reward."

Jericho just gave her a look.

"What?" Angel cried. "He'd appreciate it. He's been wanting to see me naked for months."

"Good for him," Jericho muttered.

They fell silent again as they waited for Raw to return from a break. When it did, Kurt Angle was in a parking lot.

"Hey Jericho," Angel called. "That's not your car Kurt's stealing, is it?"

Jericho's eyes flew to the screen and he only relaxed when he saw that it wasn't. 

"You little bitch," he spat.

Angel just laughed and ignored him in favor of the TV.

"What the hell is this?" she cried. "Eddie Guerrero's in six man tag with the Hardyz against Edge, Christian and Rhyno? What's up with that?"

"Oh, you didn't hear?" Jericho asked. "Eddie saved me and Matt last Thursday on Smackdown."

"He did?" Angel cried. "Why?"  
"Beats me," Jericho shrugged.

"This is messed up," Angel muttered as she watched Edge, Christian and Rhyno make their entrance. She was still having a lot of trouble believing that they had turned against her, that they'd attacked her. But it had to be true. For some reason she couldn't quite fathom she believed Jericho. Maybe it was because he had that frustrating ability to pull the truth out of her. Maybe she did the same to him. Whatever. Edge, Christian and Rhyno had nearly killed her. She'd thought they were her friends. 

She tried to watch the match but her tears were making it hard to see. She was so confused. Suddenly, a cheer brought her out of her trance.

Lita was on the turnbuckle. She was going to go for the Litacanrana on Edge. Wham! She nailed it and stood over him, getting right in his face.

'Oh God,' Angel thought. 'She's doing it for me.'

Then, right behind Lita, Angel spotted Rhyno.

"No, Lita!" Angel cried. "Get out of there! He's gonna gore…"

Before she could finish, Rhyno took off. Angel's hands flew to her mouth, but before he connected, Eddie Guerrero got in the way. Lita was safe. Eddie was down, the victim of the gore. He'd taken the bullet for Angel's cousin.

"I don't get it," Angel admitted. "I just don't get it."

Neither, it seemed, did Lita or Matt, who were staring at Eddie, absolutely bewildered. 

"Messed up," Angel muttered again.

She was quiet until the next match.

"Hey, who's that guy?"

Jericho peered up to find out for her. "That's Jerry Lynn, the new light heavyweight champ."

Angel was surprised. "Since when?"  
"Pre-Backlash Heat," Jericho replied. "He beat…"

"Crash Holly," Angel cut in. "Hmm. He's little, he's arrogant. He looks kind of like what'd happen if you and Triple H had a kid. Or maybe you and Benoit."  
"Maybe," Jericho shrugged. "But I think me and Benny's kid would be better looking than that guy."  
"With Benoit as the daddy?" Angel cried incredulously. "Not a chance."  
Before Jericho could reply, there was a knock at the door. Angel went to answer it.

"Hi Michael Cole. What's up?"  
"Hello Angel. I'd like to get an interview with Chris Jericho, if I could."

"Sure," Angel smiled. "Come on in."  
She hadn't even shut the door when William Regal arrived to collect her. "Miss Torres, it's time to go."

Angel nodded smugly.

"Hey Jerky," she called out. "Regal's here. I'll see you out there."

Jericho just glowered at her and turned to Michael Cole. Once this interview was over, it was most definitely go time.

* * * *

Regal and Angel stepped out onto the stage as the crowd booed. Angel ignored them and handed the microphone to the commissioner.

"Thank you, my girl," he smiled. 

He gave a little speech about Rikishi and particularly Jericho, finishing with some ominous words, "So get your miserable little carcass out into that cage, and prepare to get the thrashing of a lifetime!"

Angel smiled and took the microphone from him, returning it to where it belonged and then following Regal down the ramp towards the ring and the cage. When Regal was inside the cage and ready, Jericho made his entrance. He looked absolutely livid, shouting insults as he strode steadily down the ramp. 

Angel stood calmly next to the cage door. She waved at Jericho, a sweet smile on her face. He glared as he approached her, then lunged, grabbing her by the chin.

"You listen to me, you little bitch," he spat. "If you even think about interfering in this match, I promise you will never…ever be the same again."

Angel held his gaze. "Two words, Jericho. Screw you."

He pushed her away and she flailed her arms, trying to keep her balance, which she somehow did. Jericho fumed at her, tore off his shirt and thrust it into her face, then climbed the steps to the ring as she struggled to push the shirt away.

"Come on, Regal!" she growled. "Destroy him!"  
She raced over to referee Jim Korderas, who was guarding the door.

"Hey, I wanna work the door."

"But I'm officiating," the ref argued.

"Yep, and I respect that. But it's no disqualification so that means I get to work the door. You just watch the match."

"I can't argue with that," the ref shrugged, stepping away. 

Angel grinned and slammed the door, bolting it quickly. It was time for the match to start.

The rules of the match were simple. No pinfalls, no count-outs, no disqualification. There was only one way to win. Escape the cage – either through the door or over the top.

Regal and Jericho circled for a moment before Regal made a bolt for it. Angel was ready with the open door, but Jericho grabbed him and dragged him back into the ring. Angel sighed and locked the door again.

Jericho took the early advantage, stopping Regal long enough to start a climb, having decided that, with Angel in charge, there was no way he was getting through the door. However, Regal hair and dragged him back down to the canvas.

"Oh!" Angel cried as Jericho hit the deck. "That had to hurt!"  
Regal could have kept climbing, but he didn't, choosing instead to punish Jericho. He walked slowly to the door, then stopped.

"Miss Torres," he called. "Lock the door."

"With pleasure," Angel smirked, doing as she was told.

Regal pounded Jericho relentlessly until Jericho scored a lucky clothesline and made a break up the cage. But Regal was on him and slammed him to the mat again.

"That's it!" Angel cried, throwing her hands in the air. "Alright!"

Regal even had time to stop and wave before raking Jericho's face over the wire of the cage.

"Not so pretty now, are ya?" Angel cried from the ground. "Not so pretty now!"  
Regal hit a big elbow and continued to drag Jericho around by the hair before whipping him into the corner. He ran to attack but Jericho kicked out, then wearily climbed the cage, on his way to freedom. Regal sped to catch him, pulled him down onto the turnbuckle, then landed a huge superplex, which floored them both. 

Angel looked on, concerned. Both men were writhing on the mat and there was a very real possibility that the first man up would be the one to leave the cage first. Despite her role as door bitch, the odds were even. Fifty-fifty. Angel hated that. She was going to help win this match, if it was the last thing she did.

So she curled her right hand over the wire and started to climb the cage. She moved her left arm next, but as soon as she tried to use it in supporting her weight, pain roared through her body and she almost fell back. She took a deep breath. This was not going to be easy. She'd have to use her left hand as an 'in case of emergency' anchor and concentrate on her right hand and her legs.

"Come on, Angel," she coaxed herself. "You can do this."

So she climbed. There wasn't much time.

'Okay, Angel,' she told herself. 'If you shave ten seconds off your time, you can turn off Jericho's damn music. Go girl, go.'

From the announce desk came aghast shouts.

"Angel Torres is climbing the cage! Is she out of her mind?"

"The girl has a broken arm. What does she think she's doing?"

Before Angel knew it, she'd reached the top. Below her, both Regal and Jericho were finding their feet. It sure was a long way down.

"You gotta do this, Angel," she told herself. "You've got to!"  
She took a deep breath, crossed herself, and jumped.

Bam! Angel hit the huge hurricanrana and William Regal was down.

Angel rolled nimbly to Jericho's side.

"Come on, Jerky. Get up!"  
She jumped out of the way as Jericho grabbed Regal and put him in the Walls.

"Um, Jerky," Angel called. "There's no submission."

"I know," Jericho hissed, throwing Regal face-first into the cage.

"Yeah!" Angel cried. "Alright!"

Jericho pounded Regal and whenever he let go, Angel was there with a few kicks and punches of her own.

"Hey Jerky. I'm gonna go for a moonsault, okay?" Angel asked, climbing to the top turnbuckle.

"Sure," Jericho nodded, slamming Regal into the cage and letting him drop to the canvas.

Angel flew and landed in the perfect moonsault.

"Alright, baby!" Jericho cried as she jumped to her feet again.

"Damn, that was fun!"  
Jericho hit a side Russian leg sweep and went for the lionsault, but at the critical moment, Regal moved.

"Son of a bitch," Angel spat, kicking him viciously as he struggled to find his feet. He reached out and floored her with a hard left, then stepped up to the ropes and started to climb. 

Angel bounded after him and grabbed his leg, trying to loose his grip, but he kicked out and sent her tumbling across the ring. Jericho stumbled forward and climbed up next to Regal. They grappled on the top rope, doing everything they could to make the other lose his grip.

Angel scowled and picked herself up.

"Arrgh!" she shouted, sprinting across the ring and launching herself. 

She hooked her arms around Regal's body and tried to dislodge his grip, but it was just too strong.

"Let go, let go, let go!" Angel cried as Regal tried to shrug her off.

She held tight and shimmied up his body, hooking her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck. 

"Let go!" she screamed, but still he held on.

Angel decided to chance it. Under the cast she could just move her fingers. Hopefully this would work. Still gripping tightly with her legs and right arm, she reached down with her left to grab her sticks. She couldn't grip them well and one clattered to the canvas. Somehow she held the other. One was all she needed. Squeezing her legs as hard as she could, she leaned right back, plunging her arm into Regal's neck as she hit his fingers with the stick, over and over and over. He couldn't hold on much longer. Gravity would take him down, his handholds would fail or he'd stop breathing in the chokehold. It didn't really matter which.

Suddenly, Jericho reached out and slammed Regal's face forward, into the cage. It was the last straw and he let go, landing with one leg either side of the rope. Angel slipped off his back as he stumbled around the ring, blinded by pain. She smirked, waited for him to approach her, then kicked him in the groin, grabbed his shoulders and brought him down in a DDT.

"Take that, commissioner assclown."

Meanwhile, Jericho was climbing the cage. Regal heard the crowd and knew he was almost out of time.

"You bloody tart," he seethed at Angel, summoning every ounce of strength to stumble towards the door.

"Shit, it's open," Angel muttered.

She jumped on Regal's back again, but this time he was ready, reached out a hand and shoved her to the canvas. She pushed herself up and looked over at Regal.

"No!" she cried out. 

After everything she'd done, Regal was going to win. All he had to do was make it through the door. She had to stop him. 

Without concern for her own body, she leaped again, this time over Regal, pulling him down into a sunset flip. The second his backside hit the canvas, she was back on her feet, climbing quickly through the door. She turned back and slammed it shut, right into Regal's face. There was a double thud as Regal hit the deck and Jericho's feet hit the ground. The ringbell rang and Angel squealed in delight.

"Yes!" she shouted, racing over to lift an almost dead Jericho's hand into the air. "Yes!"  
Lillian Garcia was on the microphone.

"Here is your winner, Chris Jericho!"  
Angel ran over to her. "Hey, Lillian, can I borrow that for a minute?"

"Sure," Lillian replied.

"Great." Angel held the microphone to her mouth and turned to the ring. "Hey, Regal! Commissioner Regal! Look at me!" Regal pushed himself up and gave her a besmirched glare. "That's right, it's me, Miss Torres. I have three things to say to you, Regal, so I'll make it quick. Number one. If you make me a promise, I expect you to keep it. If you don't, I get pissed off. This…" She signaled the ring. "Is what happens when you piss me off. Number two. One week ago, this man here, Chris Jericho, saved my life. He then spent a week of his own time in hospital making sure I was going to be okay. He was the first person I saw when I came out of the coma. You, however… Tonight, you didn't even ask me how I was feeling. You know what? That really bugs me. Number three, I was too nice to tell you before, and I've got nothing against the Queen, but if there's one thing I hate it's an anal retentive English coward. So you, Regal, you whingeing, whining, pommy, limey sack of crap. You can kiss my ass!" She threw the microphone down as the cheers of the crowd rang in her ears, then stepped calmly to Jericho's side.

"Okay, up you get." 

She helped him to his feet and supported his weight as they started slowly up the ramp.

"I'm betting you want to see the trainer," Angel observed.

Jericho nodded wearily. "I'm betting _you_ need to see a psychiatrist," he muttered breathlessly.

Angel raised her eyebrows and turned to give him a look. "I'd be careful what you say to me, Jericho. I think you've just seen you don't wanna piss me off."

"Yes, sister," Jericho murmured. "I think I have."

* * * *

"Come on, Jericho," Angel encouraged him. "We're nearly there, nearly there, and we made it." She knocked on the door to the trainer's room. "Hi, I have a patient for you."

The trainer peered at Jericho. "Come on in. I'm just finishing up with this one."

Angel entered the room and looked across to see who he was talking about.

"Eddie Guerrero," she blurted, approaching him with a frown on her face.

Eddie drew back. "Oh, come on, 'cita. I just got gored by Rhyno and I really don't need…"

"Shut up, Eddie," Angel interrupted. "I want to say something to you."

"Just say? You're not gonna hit me with your little sticks or whatever, huh?"  
Angel eyed him smugly, hands on her hips.

"Eddie," she started before throwing her arms around him. "Thank you."

Eddie frowned, then patted her on the back. "You're welcome, 'cita. Thank me for what?"

Angel released him and drew back, a smile on her face. 

"Just thank you," she shrugged.

Eddie nodded coolly before the trainer spoke.

"Mr. Guerrero, we're done here. You can go now."  
Eddie picked himself up as a very injured Jericho lay down on the bench, ready to be examined.

"I guess I'll see you round, huh, cita?" he asked, giving her a wink.

"Yeah, maybe," Angel nodded coolly.

She turned back to Jericho, who was outlining his injuries to the trainer.

"Hey Jerky. Is there anything you need from the locker room?"

"Yeah," Jericho replied, wincing from the pain. "Can you get my bag?"  
"Sure," she nodded. "I'll be right back. Take good care of him, okay?" she said to the trainer. "That man saved my life."

She left the room and walked quickly up the hall, a woman on a mission. Suddenly, she was grabbed by the right arm.

"Hey!" she cried, trying to wrench it free.

"I thought I told you to stay with Jericho," Benoit scowled. 

"I am, I'm just…"

"You're just coming with me, that's what. Get your ass moving."

Angel scowled and let him drag her along, all the way down the ramp to the ring.

"Get that microphone," he ordered.

"Fine," Angel spat, picking it up and violently shoving it at him.

She looked up at the Titantron. Kurt Angle was in WWF New York and he looked stunned to see Benoit in the ring. Benoit smirked and taunted Kurt about the fact that he kept avoiding him. He then told Kurt that if he wanted the medals back, they'd be waiting in the ring for him on Judgment Day. All he had to do was go get them. Kurt immediately accepted the challenge.

Angel nodded to herself. Well, now it didn't matter that she'd had a falling out with Regal. It looked like Benoit had booked his own Pay Per View match. 

Finally, Benoit wrapped up.  
"I can see how stressed out you are right now so, to keep your mind at ease, well, just like I did in the United Kingdom, I'm gonna keep these medals in a very safe and warm place."

With that, he removed the medals from around his neck and held them in the air, then separated them and tucked one into his pants. Still holding the other one up, he got an evil glint in his eye, grabbed Angel by the shoulder and glared right at her.

"What are you gonna do?" Angel demanded. "That's sure as hell not going down _my_…"

Benoit said nothing. He simply bunched the medal up in his fist and plunged it into the front of Angel's tube top. Angel's mouth dropped open and she slapped him across the face, forcing him back.

"Not on your life, buddy," she screamed, shoving her own hand down her top and causing the already loud crowd to cheer even louder.

"Leave it down there!" Benoit demanded.

"Make me!" Angel challenged.

Angel sighed furiously and took a few steps backwards. "You make me sick, you son of a bitch."

Benoit smirked at her. "I'm glad you're back, slave."

Angel just shook her head and started up the ramp. She took off ahead of Benoit, swearing under her breath about the fact that something that had been touching Benoit's genitals was now in contact with her breasts. One thing was for sure – once back at the hotel, both she and the medal were in for a very heavy duty cleaning and disinfecting session.

She looked up and spotted Edge and Christian the same second they spotted her. All three jumped a mile.

"Hi guys," Angel greeted them, her smile sickly sweet.

"Hey Angel face," Edge replied, forming his sinister grin.

Suddenly, someone grabbed her from behind and shoved her aside. Of course, that someone was Benoit.

"What the hell do you want?" he demanded, spreading his arms to protect Angel.

Christian stepped right up to Benoit, who now stood with his hands on his hips.

"Chris. We know you've got Kurt's medals, and we want them back."

"So you know what, Chris?" Edge added. "We can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way."

"Well, there's two of you and there's only one of me," Benoit pointed out. "So I guess it's the hard way."

He lunged to get the first punch in on Edge, but he was soon double-teamed. Angel, who had leaped out of the way, looked on. This was Benoit's fight. She was best to just let it go, to let her former friends beat the crap out of Benoit, just like they'd beaten the crap out of her. Suddenly, her face contorted and she ran at Christian, him being the smaller of the brothers.

"Son of a bitch!" she screamed, fighting tears as she punched and kicked him. "Why did you do that to me? I thought you were my friends!"

"Get off me, hosebeast!" Christian cried, but she didn't back off, fueled by anger and despair. In that state, she could have beaten anyone. 

The four of them battled down the hallway, until Christian finally dropped Angel, then grabbed Benoit's head and shoved him through a door.

Angel looked up from where she'd fallen and realized which room they'd chosen.

"Jericho! Help!" she cried.

She then jumped to her feet and raced after them. By the time she burst into the trainer's room, Benoit and Jericho had things under control, so she held the door open while they evicted Edge and Christian. Then she slammed the door shut and leaned against it, breathing heavily.

Benoit nodded over at Jericho.

"Thanks," he panted.

"No problem, man," Jericho shrugged, reaching a hand to his back.

Now Benoit turned his attention to Angel.

"What the hell's the matter with you? You're injured and you attack a man twice your size?"  
"He's not that much bigger than me," Angel scowled.

"He's a hell of a lot stronger. That man nearly killed you once. Use your damn brain."

Angel furiously shook her head, before focusing on Jericho. "I don't have your bag. He stopped me and made me go to the ring."

"That's okay," Jericho told her. "I'm done here. We'll go get it now."

Angel nodded and automatically stepped to Jericho's side. "Are you okay?"  
"Yeah," Jericho smiled. "This trainer's a miracle worker. How about you?"  
She nodded meekly as they started towards the locker room.

"Hey Benoit," Jericho called, slowing his walk so they were close enough to Angel to protect her, but far enough away so she couldn't hear what they were saying. "Go easy on her, eh?"  
"Why?" Benoit scowled, confused over a scene between Angel and Jericho which was decidedly friendly. Since when had those two showed concern for each other?

"I'm just saying," Jericho went on. "She won my match for me tonight."

"What?" Benoit cried. "She did what?"  
Jericho still spoke quietly. "She pulled the 'rana on Regal, ten feet off the top of the cage. Then she helped me kick the crap out of the assclown."

Benoit was shaking his head in disbelief. "Why would she help you?"  
"I don't know," Jericho shrugged. "But she's got guts, that's for sure."

"I know that," Benoit muttered.

"Listen," Jericho finished as they reached the locker room. Angel was standing inside. "We'll stop by the AV people and pick up a tape. You really should see what she did. You'll be proud."

"Right," Benoit murmured. 

The bitch helping Jericho. What the hell was the world coming to? Her motives had to be selfish; they always were. Regal must have pissed her off somehow. But Jericho didn't seem to realize that and that made Benoit uneasy.

'I don't know what she's doing,' he thought. 'But I'm almost certain I don't like it.'

With her, it seemed, he never did.


	51. Shooter

Title: Shooter

Warnings: the usual, language, violence, probably some adult themes in there too.

Spoilers: Just SmackDown, I think

Summary: Angel and Jericho have a tentative understanding. Will a dirty trick or two from William Regal be its downfall?

A/N: Chapter 51, we're on the home stretch now. Not many left in the 'R' version at all. This chapter's for Andraste, who is one cool chica *grins*. But once again, thanks to all reviewers for making my life so happy!

SMACKDOWN, MAY 10TH, 2001

Angel pounded the punching bag with one hand, growing more and more frustrated by the second. This was the first time she'd actually gotten to use it and she couldn't even do it properly. She cursed her broken arm and got creative, using her feet, knees and legs, slamming into it over and over and over. Better, but she was still pissed off. 

"Hey Wolverine and Wolverette."

Angel stopped her workout and spun around. Jericho had arrived. 

"Hey," she replied coolly, wiping the sweat from her brow.

"That looks intense, baby," Jericho noted, eyeing both Angel and the punching bag.

"That's the idea," Angel shrugged, reaching for her water bottle. "I think I should amputate this, though," she added, holding up her left arm. "It really is an extraordinary pain in the ass."

"Just like the rest of you, eh?" Jericho joked, receiving a scowl from Angel in return. "Hey, I'm just kidding, baby. Here, I got something for you."

Benoit looked on with a frown as Jericho handed her a plastic bag.

She peered inside. "Clothes. Why does everyone always get me clothes? Let me guess, it's a Jerichoholics Anonymous shirt, isn't it, Jerky?"  
"Guess again," Jericho replied. "You can wear it to the ring tonight."

Like she had so many times before, Angel pulled out whatever it was and took a look. It was a tiny crop top, midnight blue, with silver letting spelling a single word. 'Shooter'. 

"It's beautiful," Angel murmured, honestly touched. "But I can't wear it. All costumes must be pre-approved by the man over there. That's why I'm always either 'Crippling' or 'Proving People Wrong'."

Jericho frowned thoughtfully and turned to Benoit, who looked very uneasy. "Can she wear it? It says 'Shooter'. That's your thing, right?"  
Benoit nodded solemnly. "She can wear it."

"There you go, baby," Jericho announced. "You're all clear."

"Oh," Angel said, suddenly gloomy. "Shooter, as in Benoit. Right."

"No," Jericho told her. "Shooter as in you."

She looked up quickly. "You really mean that?"  
"That's what the shirt says," Jericho nodded.

"Wow. Thank you. I'll go try it on right now."

She actually gave him a hug, then hurried towards the women's locker room.

Benoit stared at Jericho darkly. "She's not a shooter."

Jericho frowned. "Says who?"  
"Says me. I coach her. I say when she's ready."

"Did you watch the tape, junior?" Jericho asked. "Did you see what she did? Now, if that's not shooter behavior, I don't know what is."

"It's psychotic behavior," Benoit argued. "She could have killed herself."

"But she didn't," Jericho pointed out. "She knew exactly what she was doing and she did it, and because of that, I won."

"That doesn't make her a shooter," Benoit scowled.

On the outside, he looked calm, but inside he was seething. How dare Jericho imply that the bitch was a shooter? That label was an honor, it had to be earned. She'd done nothing to warrant it, nothing at all. She'd never even had a damn match!

"Okay," Jericho replied. "What's your definition of a shooter?"

"A master ring technician," Benoit replied quickly, as if quoting from a wrestling dictionary.

"Which means?" Jericho prompted.

"Someone who maintains the perfect balance of submission, grappling, brawling and high risk. Someone who is systematic, technically perfect and unrelenting. Someone who has a plan and implements it, making minor changes for the unexpected…"

"Someone who doesn't let size bother them?" Jericho cut in.

Benoit blinked. "Sometimes."

"Someone who thinks through any problem so that they win, whatever it takes?" Jericho asked. When Benoit nodded, he went on. "All that I saw from her on Monday night. Everything she did was planned precisely. She used her strengths and hid her weaknesses. So she has a strength problem. It didn't matter, she used leverage instead. She was fast, she was tough, she was un-re-lenting. Junior, William Regal didn't even know what hit him. Trust me, the girl is a shooter."  
Benoit simply shook his head and turned his back, not willing to argue about the bitch anymore.

"You should be proud," Jericho called to him. "You think Stu's not proud of your shooter status? Of course he is. And besides, everyone associates great wrestlers with the people who trained them. Like you and me. Everyone knows we trained with Stu. People are gonna look at Angel and say, 'Chris Benoit trained her'."

Benoit glared at him. "I am a great wrestler."

"And so is she," Jericho told him. "Maybe it's time you recognized that and cut her a little slack now and then."

"A little slack?" Benoit cried incredulously. "I don't believe this. What's gotten into you?"  
"Nothing," Jericho frowned. "Look, just forget it. Everyone's gonna think the shirt means you anyway. We'll just go with that."

"Good," Benoit muttered.

Just then, Angel returned. "What do you think?"  
"You look great, baby," Jericho enthused.

And she did, too. She didn't know how Jericho had known, but the top looked stunning on her. She'd received way more than one look on her way back from the changeroom. One guy had even walked into a wall. She was hot, no doubt about it.

"And don't worry, Benoit. I can still wear a bra under this one so I can keep hiding Kurt's medal for you."

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "How about you shut up and go get me a match? You know who I want."

"You haven't been yet, baby?" Jericho asked.

Angel shook her head. "I was waiting to see who you wanted."

"Well, that was sweet of you. I want those jackasses Edge and Christian."

Angel nodded.

"Same as him," she replied, indicating Benoit. "Okay, boys, I'll be right back." She stopped when she was hallway to the door and turned back with a smile. "Thanks again for the top, Jericho. I love it."

"You're welcome, baby," Jericho told her. "See, Benoit? All you gotta do is be nice to her."  
"Nice," Benoit spat. "She doesn't know the meaning of the word."

"Yeah, we'll see," Jericho shrugged. "They can be trained, as you well know."

Benoit's only response was to shake his head.

* * * *

"Good afternoon, commissioner Regal," Angel said cheerfully.

Regal nearly jumped out of his skin. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

Angel frowned. "You mean after what happened on Monday? I'm still Benoit's manager. That hasn't changed. I still make his matches."

"Not with me, you don't," Regal scowled.

"Come now, Regal. Don't sulk," Angel smirked, pacing confidently. "It's gonna be easier on both of us if you just give me what I want. Then I'll go, I promise."  
"And if I refuse?"

"Well," Angel shrugged. "I'll just have to call Benoit and Jericho in to kick your ass. They're waiting just outside, you know, and if they hear so much as a raised voice from either one of us, well, mate, you're in trouble."

Regal formed his besmirched face as he digested this. 

"Okay, Miss Torres," he said finally. "What is your request?"

"Benoit and Jericho versus Edge and Christian," Angel replied without skipping a beat.

"Impossible!" Regal cried.

"And yet possible," Angel challenged.

"Not a chance," Regal insisted.

"Oh well," Angel shrugged. "It was worth a try." She turned to the door. "Hey, Be…"

"Wait, wait, wait," Regal cut in, causing her to turn back. "I'll tell you what I'll do. Chris Jericho will take on Christian and Chris Benoit will be facing Edge. How does that sound?"

"Perfect," Angel smirked. "Pleasure doing business with you, Commish." 

Humming to herself, she again turned to leave.

"Hold it right there, Miss Torres. There is the certain matter of your punishment."

"Punishment?" Angel cried, spinning around to glare at him. "What for? The cage match? Those are no DQ, jackass. Johnny from Row 4 could run in and interfere if he wanted to."

"I'm not talking about interference on me," Regal announced "I'm perfectly aware that besmirchment of that kind is within the rules. Besmirchment of a referee, however, is not."

"What?" Angel cried. "I didn't touch the ref!"  
"Perhaps not," Regal replied evenly. "But you did prevent him from completing his job as guardian of the cage door."

"Excuse me?" Angel scowled at him as the realization hit her. "Oh, that is low, Regal. That is really, really low. So, what's my punishment, huh? A hundred hours community service kissing your ass?"  
"No, and don't be crude," Regal snapped. "What I had in mind is for you to experience what life is like for one of the referees you so readily dismiss."

"You want me to ref?" Angel questioned. "Been there, done that."

"This time, you'll be impartial," Regal went on. "If I judge that to be the case, you have nothing to worry abut. If not, however, I will have no choice but to suspend you for three months."

"You can't suspend me," Angel challenged, hands on her hips. "I'm not under contract here. You can't touch me."

"Oh no?" Regal asked. "Then perhaps I should reconsider my decision not to press assault charges against you for your attack on me at Raw. As a civilian, an uncontracted heathen, you have no rights."

Angel's face fell.

"You son of a bitch," she spat. "So, who am I reffing for? Edge and Benoit? Bring it on!" 

That'd be no problem. Maybe she could even borrow the 'He Hate Me' ref's shirt Jericho had worn for Eddie versus X-Pac. Yeah, that'd be pretty sweet.

"No," Regal answered quietly. "Since you and Chris Jericho have become so close lately, I feel I should do all I can to keep you in close proximity to one another. You will officiate in Christian versus Chris Jericho." He threw a ref's shirt at her. "Enjoy your match, Miss Torres. And remember to remain impartial. You criminal record depends on it."

"Shit," Angel spat, storming out of the room. "Shit, shit, shit. I am a dead woman."

Regal quickly jumped from his seat, ran to the door and stuck his head out to watch Angel walk away. She was alone. Benoit and Jericho were not around.

"Call my bluff, will you, you bloody tart?" he said aloud. "Well, I sincerely hope you know what you've gotten yourself into. I'm yet to begin with you, young lady."

* * * *

Angel stood stiffly next to Benoit, waiting for their entrance. They were about to surprise Edge and Christian, who thought that Jericho would be in his match alone.

Angel sighed deeply. She hadn't had the heart, or rather guts, to tell Jericho that she was to be referee in this match. He was probably down here with Edge and Christian, wondering what was going on. Oh well, they'd find out soon enough.

Benoit shot her a sideways glance. She looked worried. Good. That was preferable by far to her sweetness of earlier. At least when she was scowling he knew what he was dealing with.

Just then, 'Shooter' played.

"Come on," Benoit muttered.

Angel sighed and stepped forward to meet her fate.

By the time they reached the bottom of the ramp, se cold hear Edge and Christian discussing the situation. 

"Where's the ref, dude?"

"I don't know. Should I just start hitting this chump stain and see if one comes running out?"

"Maybe."

Angel took a deep breath. If she took any longer, there was no way she'd keep control. She reached into the front of her pants, thinking for one disgusting second of Benoit and the medals, and pulled out the ref's shirt.

"What?" Benoit cried. "You?"

Angel just pulled the shirt over head and climbed into the ring.

"Okay," she said evenly, switching her gaze between Jericho and Christian, who looked back at her, absolutely bewildered. "Let's keep this clean. You," she called out to Edge. Don't even think of getting involved. Same goes for you, Benoit. Okay, let's go."

She nodded to herself, knowing she'd at least sounded a whole lot more confident than she felt. It was going to be so hard to be impartial in this match but she had to. Her life depended on it.

The two competitors locked up, then grappled until Jericho scored one knockdown off the ropes and then another. Then he hit the armdrag into a submission hold which pinned Christian's arms.

Angel leaned forward, hands on her knees. "What do you say, Christian? Do you give up?"  
"No," Christian groaned, punctuating his word by rolling over out of the hold.

Jericho still held his arm and jerked it down, trying to injure the elbow, before forming another submission hold.

"Do you give up? Do you give up?" Angel asked.

"No!" Christian cried, pulling himself to his feet, before backing Jericho into the corner.

Angel ran to them.

"Get out of there! Get out of the corner. Come on, get out!"

Christian stopped hitting Jericho and got in Angel's face. "Shove it, hosebeast."

Angel held her ground. "Do you want a DQ, Christian?"

Christian shook his head and turned back to Jericho in time to get a kick in the ribs. He fell to the canvas with a thud. Jericho reached forward to grab him.

"Not the hair!" Angel warned, but at that moment, Jericho sent Christian back with a knife-edge chop and threw him in a hiptoss.

"Hey!" Angel cried. "Watch the hair!"  
She didn't want to push it, but she'd been warned to call this by the book.

Christian quickly rolled through the ropes onto the apron, but Jericho jumped and hit him with a dropkick, knocking him to the ground in front of Benoit.

Angel turned to Jericho. "Jerky, you're gonna have to keep off Christian's hair. I don't want to have to DQ you."

Jericho smirked at her. 

"Whatever you say, baby," he shrugged, before hitting the baseball slide and jumping down after Christian. 

"Get him back in here, Jericho!" Angel cried. "One! Two! Three!"

Jericho bounced Christian's head off the barricade, then threw him back into the ring. Jericho went up top and Angel had no choice but to start counting him out.

"One! Two!"

Bam! Jericho flew and Christian was down. Angel dropped to the mat.

"One! Two!"

But Christian kicked out.

"Two!" Angel cried, holding up her fingers.

"What?" Jericho cried. "That was three!"

"Two!" Angel said again, although she wished from the bottom of her soul that it _had_ been three. 

Jericho hit another knife-edge, then started to roll Christian over into the Walls. Suddenly, he spotted Edge standing on the apron and raced over to punch him, releasing Christian, who was right on him immediately.

"Stay down there!" Angel shouted down at Edge. "You too, Benoit."

Meanwhile, Christian had hit the backbreaker and was sinking his boot into Y2J's body. Then he grabbed Jericho's hair.

"Let go of his damn hair!" Angel cried.

Christian did as he was told and lifted Jericho to his feet, only to be punched in the chest and knocked to the canvas. After an Irish whip, both men flew off the ropes, but it was Christian who scored the takedown and made the cover. Angel dropped and began the count. 

"One…two…"

Jericho raised his shoulder.

"Two count!" Angel announced. "Nearfall."

Both Benoit and Edge were encouraging their teammates, but Christian was first up, pounding Jericho, who scrambled to the ropes. Christian pushed his head down, choking him. 

Angel was right there.

"Break it up! One, two, three, four…this close, Christian!"  
"Shut up, psycho," Christian argued.

"Christian, don't try me. I will disqualify you."

"Whatever," Christian muttered, heading for Jericho again, but Y2J was ready and the two grappled until Jericho telegraphed a back body drop and got a kick in the head for his efforts. Christian went for more momentum off the ropes, but Jericho raised his arms and catapulted him into the ropes on the other side of the ring. Both men were down. Angel looked into their faces to make sure they were still conscious and then started the count.

"One! Two! Three!"

By four, both men were up. Clothesline by Jericho, then another. He missed the third but nailed two chops and scored a takedown. Checking that Christian was down, he climbed to the second rope for the missile dropkick. 

"One!" counted Angel. "Two!"

Jericho flew, hit Christian, hooked his leg and made the cover as Angel dropped to her hands and knees. 

"One! Two!"  
Again Christian kicked out.

Jericho picked up Christian by the hair and hit him again.

"Last warning, Jerky, stay off the hair!"  
This distracted Jericho long enough for Christian to reverse the whip into the knee to the abdomen. But Jericho reversed another whip into the bulldog. Angel looked down at Christian as Jericho went for the lionsault. When she looked up again, Jericho was down and Edge and Benoit were trading punches.

Although Angel had an idea what had happened, she could only call what she saw. And right now, Christian had the cover.

"One…two…"

But again, Jericho raised his shoulder.

"Two!" Angel cried, holding her fingers up.

Both men were weary, but they battled on, until Christian whipped Jericho off the apron, then rolled him up.

"One," counted Angel. "Two. Three." She got to her feet and gave a dismayed sigh. "Ring that bell, it's over," she called to the timekeeper.

Edge and Christian escaped quickly up the ramp, leaving Angel with two very pissed off men called Chris.

"What the hell was that?" Benoit demanded. "Didn't you see Edge?"  
"I called it like I saw it," Angel protested.

"And what was all that 'get off the hair' crap?" Jericho added.

Angel sighed deeply. "You can't do that. You should know that."  
"So?" Jericho questioned.

Angel slowly shook her head. This was all going wrong.

"Look, forget it," she muttered, rolling from the ring and heading up the ramp.

Jericho was by her side in a flash. "No, I won't forget it, baby. You've got some explaining to do because as far as I'm concerned you just screwed me. So, what's it about, baby?"

Angel sighed again. "You wouldn't believe me anyway." She pushed past the curtain and entered the hallway.

Jericho grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around.

"Try me," he sneered, eyes wild.

Angel withered under his glare. "It was Regal. He blackmailed me. He said if I didn't call your match and call it even he'd have me arrested for assaulting him on Monday night."  
Jericho was unmoved. "After all the shit you've pulled, you actually expect me to believe that?"  
Angel blinked back the tears that were starting to fill her eyes.

"No," she replied quietly. "I don't. Just forget it."

She shoved his hands off her shoulders and started walking back to the locker room.

"Hold it right there, sister," Jericho cried, grabbing her arm. 

"Let go of me," she growled. "That asshole's the only one allowed to grab me like that."  
Benoit stood back, letting Jericho deal with her. So long as he didn't hurt her, everything was fine.

"You know what, baby?" Jericho snapped. "Right now I don't care. Come on, we're taking a walk."  
He dragged her along, just like Benoit did, as she complained, "Let me go, okay?"  
"Okay, baby, I'll let you go," Jericho sneered. He shoved her through a door, then pushed her across the room. She stopped short and hugged herself as she realized where she was. William Regal's office.

"Whatever is the meaning of this?" Regal demanded.

"Maybe _you_ can tell _me_ that," Jericho scowled. "This girl seems to think that the only reason she had to referee my match is because you blackmailed her with some bogus story about an arrest. Now, assclown. Is that true?"

Regal looked uneasy. "No, of course it's not. She came to see me asking specifically to officiate in your match. She has been a referee before and wanted another chance. I was apprehensive at first but then, I never have been able to say no to Miss Torres."

Jericho glared over at Angel, who was frozen to the spot and emitting the occasional terrified sob. She was trapped between two men who hated her and Benoit was nowhere to be seen. She was in big trouble.

"She told me you'd have her arrested unless she called the match properly," Jericho went on.

"Now, why would I do that?" Regal protested.

"Relax, jerky. I just want to know your opinion of the match. Did she call it right?"

"Well," shrugged Regal. "The better man won."

Jericho broke into a knowing smile, then leaped across the table and started punching Regal.

"You son of a bitch! You son of a bitch!" He grabbed Regal by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the wall, right next to the filing cabinet. "Let's get something perfectly clear, jackass. You don't ever…ever threaten that girl again, you got me? Don't threaten her, don't touch her, don't even talk to her unless she speaks first and if she does, you better make damn sure you give her what she wants. If you don't, not only will that piss me off, it'll also piss off Benoit. And you know Benoit's nickname? The Crippler? They don't call him that for nothing. So, you got me, jackass? You got me?"  
"Yes!" Regal cried desperately, trying to wriggle from Jericho's grasp. "Yes I get you. Now, unhand me at once!"  
Jericho twisted his grasp and pushed Regal into the filing cabinet, knocking it over.

"You better watch where you skate, assclown," Jericho warned. "You just might fall through." He stepped over to Angel. "Come on, baby. Let's get out of here. Oh yeah…" Angel was still frozen to the spot, so he grabbed the ref's shirt and tore it off her. "You can keep your stinking shirt!" He threw it over at Regal, put an arm around Angel and led her from the room.

They were almost back to the locker room before Angel regained the power of speech. 

"You didn't have to do that," she spluttered. "You didn't have to believe me."

"No, but I had to _not_ believe him," Jericho told her. "Commissioner assclown is a compulsive liar. You're just damn lucky he told a different story to you."

"Yeah," Angel murmured, pushing open the locker room door. "I guess I am."

* * * *

"Come on, Benoit! Fire up!"  
"Get your ass up, Benoit, come on!"  
Angel and Jericho pounded the mat and cheered on Benoit. Although it wasn't her style, Angel allowed Jericho to lead her, and besides, it was better Benoit than the other option. At least Benoit had never kicked the crap out of her.

Benoit and Edge got up at the same time, before Benoit hit two chops, then whipped Edge into a trio of Germans. 

"Yeah, Benoit! All right!"

Benoit spread his arms and went up top for the headbutt. He flew and his skull slammed straight into Edge's. They were both down, but Benoit had landed awkwardly on a knee Edge had been working on earlier in the match. Still, he managed to make a cover.

"One…two…"

"Three!" screamed Angel and Jericho.

Unfortunately, the ref didn't agree. Christian had pulled his brother from the ring, just in time.

"Not on your life," Jericho muttered. "Come on, baby."  
The two of them raced around the ring and attacked Christian and Edge from behind.

"Get back in the corner, bitch!" shouted a voice as Benoit jumped down from the ring and Jericho continued pounding Christian. 

Angel scowled but did as she was told, stomping heavily over the steps and muttering under her breath, "I was cheering for _you_, jackass."

Suddenly, Edge pushed Benoit right into the ref, who, if she hadn't jumped off the steps at that second, would have collided with Angel. As it was he hit the steps and lay facedown on the floor. Angel ran the few steps to his side.

"Hey ref. Are you okay? Are you alright?" It didn't look too good. The guy was out cold. "Come on, ref. Wake up. Come on."

She was rewarded with a low groan.

"There you go," Angel smiled. "Now, get up, okay?"

Angel heard the roar of the crowd and snuck a peek into the ring. Benoit had Edge in crossface.

"Come on, ref," she called. "Edge is tapping. Come on. Get up."

Near the top of the ramp, Jericho had turned his back in order to put Christian in the Walls. At that moment, a shirtless Kurt Angle appeared from the crowd and jumped into the ring. Angel spotted the movement out of the corner of her eye and shook her head furiously.

"Kurt."

She quickly left the ref's side long enough to crawl under the ring and grab the first thing she found. Trashcan lid. Then she dove into the ring and, just as Kurt was sending Benoit into the Angle slam, brought the trashcan lid over his head with a crash. Dazed, he spun to her.

"Again?" she asked, slamming it across his skull, three times in a row. 

Kurt was on the back foot and running, but she kept pounding him until he'd completely escaped the ring.

"Kiss my ass, Kurt Angle!" Angel cried, holding the trashcan lid up to the cheers off the crowd. "Now I own you too!"  
Ding! Ding! Ding! Angel turned around with a start. The match was over? Sure enough, Benoit had a miraculous cover on Edge and the ref was back in the mix. The ring announcer's voice blared from the PA system.

"Here is your winner, by disqualification, Edge!"

Angel's mouth dropped open as Benoit's voice rang out.

"What? A DQ? How?"  
He furiously clambered to his feet and suddenly spotted Angel, who was still in the ring. She stared back at him, then down at the trashcan lid in her hand, and finally back at Benoit.

"Uh oh."  
By now, Jericho was also back in the ring and the two of them were staring at her as though she was bacteria riding on the back of a maggot that was feeding from a dead rat.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, dropping the trashcan lid with a clatter. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it," Benoit snapped. "You lost me the damn match." 

He was stumbling towards her, a deadly look on his face, grabbing at both his knee and head. She knew he was even more pissed then he looked, because he was injured. He hated that, almost as much as he hated losing. 

Angel backed away from him, right into the ropes. She wasn't afraid, but she was upset. The one time she'd actually wanted Benoit to win and she'd lost it for him, just because she'd tried to stop Kurt. But Benoit wouldn't understand that. Why should he?

He glared right into her face, panting like a wild bull. Then, at the last second, he turned away and exited the ring. Jericho stepped up to him and the two of them talked quietly. Angel took a deep breath, dropped to the ground and followed them, maintaining a respectful distance all the way to the locker room. 

As she pushed the door open, she felt it release under her hand and Benoit was standing there, still looking furious. He pushed past her and headed off down the hallway without a word.

Angel took a huge breath and entered the locker room. Jericho looked up at her, eyebrows raised.

"I didn't mean it," she told him urgently, again fearing his reaction. "I swear I didn't mean it."

Jericho started walking towards her. She thought about backing up, but where would she go? Finally, she stayed put.

"What will be, will be," she whispered.

And right then, Jericho wrapped his arms around her. She was so surprised she almost started crying. She pressed her head against Jericho and slid her arms up his back so they were on his shoulder blades.

Benoit chose that moment to come back.

"I forgot my bag," he said darkly, stopping to glare at both Angel and Jericho. 

Jericho gave him a nod over Angel's shoulder and he strode forward, grabbed his bag and stormed out again.

* * * *

"Can I ask why the hell you felt you had to interfere in my match?"

Benoit was back from the showers and he was really letting Angel have it.

She scowled and folded her arms protectively across her chest. "I was trying to stop Kurt Angle."

"Why were you in the ring?" Benoit demanded.

"Because of Kurt!" Angel cried.

"Actually, I don't even care why," Benoit rushed on. "Just don't do it. I don't need your help. You just stay in the damn corner and keep your mouth shut. You've rarely felt the need to help before. Why now?"  
"Because you needed it."

"No," Benoit snapped. "I don't need your help, ever! You stay out of the ring and out of the action. Do you hear me? Do you hear me?"  
"Yes," Angel muttered, feeling like a ten-year-old at the principal's office.

"Good. Now get your shit together. We're leaving."

Angel made no move to leave. She just put her head in her hands. Tonight, causing the men who'd beaten her up to win their matches, it had exhausted her. Not knowing where she stood in the weird world of Canadians called Chris had exhausted her. She was exhausted.

She heard and felt someone sit next to her, but she didn't look up.

"I thought I was doing the right thing," she said softly. "I was trying to help."

"I know," Jericho replied. "Don't worry about it. He'll get over it."

"No, he won't," Angel murmured. "He never forgets anything. I hate him. I hate him."

"Yeah," Jericho sighed. "I know."

Angel finally tilted her head and looked at him.

"You know what?" she asked, forming a little smile. "You bought me a shirt. And you threatened Regal for me. Those were favors."

Jericho raised his eyebrows and gave a little nod. "Well, what you did on Monday was a pretty big favor."  
"No," Angel argued smugly. "I don't do favors. I just return them."

Jericho gave a little laugh.

"Touché, baby," he replied, giving her a friendly punch on the shoulder. "You better get moving. I think Benoit needs his beauty sleep."

"Yeah, no kidding," Angel mused. "I guess I'll see you later."

"Yep." Jericho gripped her hand for a moment. "Be good, okay?"  
"You bet," Angel nodded, grabbing her bag and heading after Benoit, a smile still on her face. So what if Benoit was still a jackass? He always had been and probably always would be. But now she had an ally. Now she had a friend…a friend who could get things done. And that made her feel like she could take on the world. Or at least face Benoit another day. A small victory was a victory, nonetheless.


	52. All Bets Are Off

Title: All Bets Are Off

Warnings: adult themes, some language, a few slashy references

Spoilers: None, can ya believe it?

Disclaimer: I own a dog called Jericho, but not the man himself (dammit all!). Trish Stratus, Chris Benoit and Chris Jericho are all trademarks of World Wrestling Entertainment. Only Angel is mine and I'm not sure she'd really want to be a trademark anyway.

Summary: Hmm, do I sense the beginnings of Jerichoholism?

A/N: This one's for Molly. Keep on writing, girl!!!

SUNDAY NIGHT HEAT, MAY 13TH, 2001

Angel sat across from Benoit, attempting to eat her lunch. It wasn't easy to do one-handed and cutting her food was near impossible. Benoit was getting impatient. He'd finished long ago and was now glaring at her, as if that'd make her go faster.

"Can you hurry the hell up?" he snapped.

"Patience, Benoit," she replied with a little anger of her own. He could have offered to cut it up for her, not that she would have accepted the offer. And she was actually getting faster, although it didn't surprise her that he'd failed to notice that.

"Hi Angel! Hi Chris!"

Angel looked up and noticed that Trish Stratus was pulling up a chair. 

"Hey Trish," she grinned. "Take a seat."

"Oh!" Trish cried, noticing Angel's plate. "You want help with that? I can do it for you."

"Thanks," Angel replied, giving Trish a relieved smile and handing over her plate. "That's really kind of you."

"No problem," Trish shrugged. "So, Chris. How are the gold medals? Are they behaving themselves?"

Benoit frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?"  
"I'm just saying," Trish grinned. "If I was them, and in that position, I don't know if I could restrain myself."

Benoit got to his feet and glared over at Angel. "I'm going back to the hotel room…"  
"You gotta watch your tapes, I know," Angel cut in. "Don't worry, I'll finish my food and come straight back."

Benoit nodded solemnly. "Good." Then he turned to leave.

"Bye Chris!" Trish called cheerfully.

"Don't pull too hard," Angel added. "Ya wanker."  
Benoit stopped, but he didn't turn back. It didn't matter. Angel knew exactly what expression he had on his face at that moment. And that made her smile.

"Angel!" Trish hissed. "That's disgusting!"  
"I know," Angel laughed. "He deserves it."

"Well, I am all done here," Trish told her, handing back the plate. "Now you can eat."

"Thanks," Angel smiled. "But while I do, why don't you fill me in on what you've been up to?"

"Okay," Trish replied. "I've been puzzling over something, actually. Maybe you can help me."

"Shoot," Angel told her.

"I think," Trish started. "That I'm going to try to get Chris Jericho to ask me out. Now, I know you said I shouldn't get involved with him, but I think he's a really sweet guy…"

"I don't have a problem with Chris Jericho," Angel told her.

"You don't? But last week…"

Angel smiled. "I know. Things change, Trish."

"Oh, you two are friends now?" Trish cried. "That's great!"  
"Well, I'm not crying about it," Angel shrugged. "In fact, did you see that hot little blue top I was wearing on SmackDown? He got me that."

"He did? Wow, that was so sweet of him. Hey," Trish went on, forming a frown. "You don't want him for yourself, do you?"  
"Jericho?" Angel cried. "No. We're just friends."

"Are you sure?" Trish asked. "Because if you do, it makes more sense for the two of you to be together. I'll step back, that's okay."  
"No, it's fine," Angel assured her. "You can have him. I don't want him, I swear."

"Why not?' Trish pouted uneasily. "What's wrong with him?"  
Angel laughed. "Nothing. He's just not my type."

Trish let out a little sigh. "Every man is my type. Okay, Angel, what's your type? Maybe I can help hook you up once I know that."

Angel smiled. "That's okay. You don't need to hook me up."  
"Come on, Angel! Describe your perfect man."

"Okay," Angel said thoughtfully. "Let's see here. I like them tall, but not too tall. Somewhere between six foot and six three is perfect. Blondes are better than brunettes, although I do like my fellow Hispanics. Nice lips, soulful eyes. He's gotta be sporty with a semi-decent body, a cute butt and a good sense of humor. And I'm done."

Trish stared at her, dumbfounded. "And Chris Jericho's not your type how?"  
"What?" Angel frowned.

"You just described Chris Jericho!" Trish cried.

Angel laughed. "No, I didn't."  
"Sure you did. Six foot, blonde, good body, great ass, sense of humor. That's Chris!"

"Hmm," Angel mused, shrugged her shoulder. "I guess you're right. But don't worry, Trish. You can have him. I don't want him. We're just friends."

Trish gave her a bemused look. "Okay. If you say so."

"Go for it, Trish. In fact, I'll even help you hook him, if you want."

"You will?"

"Sure," Angel smiled. "I mean, you did help me cut up my food."

"Good afternoon, ladies."

Trish looked up and immediately went into flirt mode.

"Hi Chris," she said sexily.

"Hey champ," Angel grinned.

"Champ?" Jericho frowned. "That's a little gay, isn't it?"  
"Well, if the shoe fits," Angel teased.

Jericho gave her a sarcastic smile. "You're funny. So, where's Benoit, baby?"  
"Oh, you call him baby? How cute," Angel grinned. "He's upstairs watching Kurt Angle porn. You can go join him if you want."

Jericho made a face. "Nice. So, he actually let you off your leash, eh?"

"Yeah, me and Trish scared him off. Apparently he can't handle a little girl talk."

"Girl talk, huh?" Jericho mused, before leaning over the table. "Count me in. So, who's the hottest man around?"  
"Actually, we were discussing who we think is in the closet," Angel told him, before staring over at Trish and emphatically pointing at Jericho.

"William Regal," Jericho nodded. "I mean, the guy's British. What more do you need?"  
"Oh, so that's why you kept challenging him for a roll in the ring," Angel quipped.

Jericho turned to her. "You are a bitch."

Angel grinned back at him. "Yeah, I know. Sit, Jericho. Lavish us with your presence."

Jericho shrugged and sat in Benoit's seat, placing the carton he was carrying on the table. "If it's presents you want, that I can do."  
Angel and Trish took a look in the carton. 

"What's all that shit?" Angel frowned.

"Presents from the Jerichoholics. I'm taking them to the children's hospital."

"You what?" Angel asked. "You're giving it away?"  
Jericho nodded seriously. "Every week."

"But people gave that to you!" Angel accused. 

"Well, I can't keep it all," Jericho shrugged. "I might as well give it to some sick kids."  
Angel reached over into the carton. "You got all this stuff in a week?"  
"Well, there's a lot of Jerichoholics out there, baby."

"Yeah, God help the world," Angel muttered.

She pored through the contents of the carton. Stuffed animals, fake flowers, all kinds of junk that the kids would obviously love. Suddenly, she grabbed something and pulled it from the box.

"Oh my God, Jerky. You can't give this away. It's beautiful."

She held up the necklace – a leather rope and shiny stone pendant with some sort of symbol drawn on it. 

"You like that?" Jericho asked. "Cute Native American girl gave me that after SmackDown. She said it's supposed to protect you from danger or something."

"It's a talisman?" Angel cried. "You can't throw away a talisman. It's bad luck."  
"I don't believe in that crap," Jericho told her.

"Well, maybe you should," Angel told him seriously. "Some things you can't explain. It doesn't mean it's not true."

Jericho frowned at her. "You want the necklace, baby? You can have it. I was only gonna give it to some kid anyway."

Angel ran her hand over the pendant's smooth surface, then peered over at Jericho. "You said it protects you from danger?"  
"That's what the girl told me."

"Then yeah, I want it."

"It's yours," Jericho announced. "You want anything, Trish?"  
Trish shook her head. "No. I have enough junk as it is. Angel will understand, once the fans start giving her stuff."

"Yeah, she will," Jericho agreed. "Hey, you need help over there, baby?"

Angel was having a lot of trouble adjusting the length of leather rope, so Jericho reached over and gave her a hand. 

"There you go. You're all set."

"Thanks," Angel nodded.

"Listen," Jericho started. "I better go. They're expecting me at the hospital."

Angel looked up at him. "You sure you don't want to go get Benoit to go with you? You could make it a date."

"No," Jericho shrugged. "By the sounds of things, he's found himself another man. Catch you later, baby," he grinned, reaching out to ruffle her hair. "See you, Trish."

"Bye Chris," Trish called after him, before leaning over the table. "Um, hello, do I exist at all?"  
"What?" Angel frowned.

"The two of you were completely flirting," Trish went on.

Angel shook her head. "No, we weren't."

"Sure you were. All that teasing…"  
"Not even. We always talk like that. It's fun."  
"But you're not into him at all," Trish commented.

"Exactly." 

"Right, Angel. He gave you a necklace."

"Yeah, that he was going to give away," Angel argued.

"Whatever, Angel. I'm gonna step back. You can have Chris."

"I don't want him, Trish. He's all yours."  
"No, that's okay," Trish grinned. "I'll find someone else."

"Trish…" Angel sighed.

"No, Angel. I won't hear anymore on it. You and Chris totally want each other, so I'm not gonna get in the way of that."

"Whatever, Trish," Angel laughed.

"You're lucky, Angel. Chris Jericho is hot!"  
Angel just shook her head and turned back to the last of her food.

* * * *

Chris Jericho hummed to himself as he made his way back to his room. The hospital was only a few blocks from the hotel and it was nice out, so he'd walked. He was glad he was in the position to do things like visiting the sick kids in hospital. Some of them really didn't have much to look forward to, so if he could bring a little joy into their lives just by being himself, well, that was tremendous.

He found his key and touched it to the door, but just that gentle pressure pushed it open a little.

"What the…?" Jericho cried, bursting into the room. 

He expected to find that it had been ransacked, but it hadn't. Everything was exactly as he'd left it, or at least seemed to be.

"Maybe I left it open by mistake," he mused, looking around suspiciously. But he knew he would never have done that. Or maybe the maid had come by and forgotten to shut the door when she was done. Well, if that was the case, heads were gonna roll. 

He couldn't find any evidence that someone had broken in. All his clothes were still in his suitcases and there was no real mess to speak of at all. Still, he couldn't shake the feeling in his gut that something wasn't right, so he slowly, systematically, began checking things, just to ease his mind. That's when his eyes fell on the Walkman and stack of tapes.

"Oh no," he cried. "Not my tape. Anything but that."

He leaped over to the Walkman and counted the tapes. All accounted for. Except the one he'd been playing. He opened the Walkman and peered inside. The Fozzy tape, the one of the jam sessions that he loved so much, was gone. He had one suspect. That's all he needed.

"Little bitch!" he screamed, racing for the door. "That tape had better be okay. Otherwise, that bitch is dead!"

* * * *

Benoit opened the door. Jericho was standing there, looking like he'd had one too many cups of coffee…and like that last cup of coffee had upended its contents in his groin. He was not a happy man.

"Where is she?" he demanded, nostrils flaring, eyes wild. "Where's Angel? Tell me so I can kick her ass."

Benoit stepped back and pointed to Angel's door. Jericho jumped over there and pounded the door with his fists.

"Angel! Get your ass out here before I break down the door! Open up! I mean it!"

"Okay, okay." 

Angel opened the door. 

"What is it, Jerky?" she asked, voice full of concern.

"Did you take my tape, you little slut?" he demanded. "My Fozzy tape. The one you hate. Where is it? You took it, didn't you?"  
"Yeah, I took it," Angel frowned. "Wait there a minute."

"I knew it!" Jericho seethed. "I promise you, slut, if it's damaged at all, and I mean at all, I'm going to…"

"It's right here," Angel announced. "Here's your damn tape."

She thrust three tapes at him, shaking her head slowly.

"Three?" Jericho cried. "You made copies? What, are you gonna sell them on ebay or something? Sister, that's copyright infringement and…"

"Why would I sell your tape?" Angel snapped. "Who'd even buy it?"  
Jericho blinked as he tried to figure it out.

"So, why the copies?" he asked, voice a little softer. 

Angel sighed.

"This," she said, pointing. "Is your original. When you go home next, take it with you and put it in a safe place. This," she went on. "Is a copy. Play it all you like, until you wear the damn thing out. Then, when you do, take this last tape and make a copy of it. That way, you'll always have two and your original will always be safe."

Jericho frowned at her. "I don't get it."

"There's not much to get, Jerky. You have three tapes, one's your original…"

"No," Jericho cut in. "I get that part. But why did you do it?"  
"What?" Angel asked. "Break into your room or steal your tape?"  
"Why'd you make copies?" Jericho questioned. "I thought you hated my music."

"I do," Angel told him. "But you love it. I was just trying to do something nice for you."

Jericho gave her a skeptical frown and Angel scrunched up her face. 

"Look, forget it. You have your tape back. Be happy." She started to close the door.

"Wait, Angel." She opened the door again. "I owe you an apology."

Angel shook her head. "No, you don't. You were right. I _did _steal your tape."

"True," Jericho mused. "But you stole it for good and not evil. I'm sorry for thinking the worst. Come here a minute."  
Angel stepped out of the doorway and into a hug. After a while, Jericho drew back.

"You know it takes time to build trust, right?"

Angel nodded. "Yeah, I know. Just…it's be really nice if you gave me the benefit of the doubt from time to time."

"That's fair enough," Jericho nodded. "Well, I guess I'll go make sure you taped these properly, eh, baby? And this one…" He held up the original. "Is going home."

"See you later, Jericho," Angel smiled.

"I'll catch you tomorrow," Jericho replied. "Later, Benoit."

Angel watched him go, then noticed Benoit was staring at her, a scowl on his face.

"What?" she snapped irritably.

Benoit blinked slowly. "I know what you're doing and it's not going to work."

Angel sighed and rolled her eyes. "What, Benoit? What am I doing?"  
Benoit just glared at her.

"No, really, Benoit. Tell me. Because I really don't know. What am I doing now?"

"It won't work," Benoit replied evenly. "He's too smart to fall for it."

Angel let out another exasperated sigh. "You think you can speak English?"  
"All this kissing Jericho's ass," Benoit went on. "You're wasting your time. He's not going to fight for you, so you might as well give it up."

Angel cocked her head. "That's what you think this is?"  
"We both know that's exactly what it is," Benoit challenged.

"Oh really?" Angel asked. "Ever thought I might actually _want_ Jericho's friendship? That I _like_ him?"

"You don't like anyone," Benoit scowled. "You just think you can charm him. You can't. He can't be bought."

Angel frowned at him for a moment, before her mind cleared. "Oh my God. You're scared! You are, look at you. You're shitting yourself because you know, if I did turn Jericho against you and get him to fight for me, you just might be beaten. All bets are off, right, Benoit? In your mind, it's you versus me for Jericho. If he chooses me, you're screwed. That terrifies you, doesn't it?"

Benoit's glare just became even darker, causing Angel's smirk to widen. 

"Maybe that _is_ what I have in mind," she told him. "But then again, maybe it's not. Maybe this time, just to be different, I'm only in it for friendship. But you can't take that chance, can you? You've got to worry about it. Because maybe your instincts are right. You're just gonna have to wait and see." She started to duck around the door to her room again, before turning back. "Watch out, Benoit. I just might surprise you yet."

***********************************************************************

A/N: Three chapters left in the 'R' version. Please keep reviewing, it makes my day to read them!!! *hugz everyone*


	53. It's True, It's True

Title: It's True, It's True

Warnings: Language, violence, adult themes

Spoilers: 5/14/01

Summary: And then it all comes back…

A/N: Three to go and this is one of them…but quite a bit more for those who are staying on for NC-17. This chapter is dedicated to FemalePhenom, who I can always count on, and to lawnchick, who gave a review that just cracked me up!!! (Benoit doesn't know whether to scratch his watch or wind his ass, hahaha!). Braz T - glad I inspire you and I look forward to reading whatever you come up with. That goes for everyone, even those who I said I'd review and haven't yet…sorry, but I'll get there, I promise. Cheers once again to all reviewers - if it wasn't for you guys, I wouldn't post, especially not this often!

RAW IS WAR, MAY 14TH, 2001

"Oh I give up!" Angel cried. "Forget this. It's impossible."

She angrily frisbeed a stop sign across the ring, narrowly avoiding decapitating Steve Blackman. 

"So you want to stop?" he asked calmly.

Angel sighed. "This is not working. Sorry for wasting your time. I'll be back when my arm heals."

"You know where to find me," Blackman told her. 

Angel slowly broke into a smile. She stepped up to him and kissed him on the cheek. 

"Thanks for being so patient today. That can't have been easy."  
Blackman shrugged. "I'd be here with or without you. It doesn't bother me."

Angel smiled again.

"You're great," she told him. "I'll catch you in a few weeks."

By the time her feet hit the ground outside the ring, her mood had faded. What was she thinking, attempting hardcore training with a busted arm? She couldn't even hold her damn sticks, much less swing a street sign properly. If it required two hands, she couldn't do it, and unfortunately, that counted out most things. With Benoit, training was difficult, but she refused to let him bring her down. She psyched herself up to take whatever he could dish out, no matter what. She had no problem with Blackman and, as a result, no motivation to keep on with the frustration. It had to stop, despite the fact that it was only the first day she'd even attempted hardcore training since leaving the hospital. It didn't matter. She'd be back.

Hoping the fluid she was wiping from her face was just sweat and not tears as well, she rubbed the towel across, then put it down and picked up her water bottle. She used her teeth to unscrew the lid, then took a long drink. She'd had about enough of the damn broken arm. She was a goddamn invalid and it was giving her the shits!

"Hey Angel."

Angel looked up. "Hi Trish. What's up?"

But Trish wasn't looking at her anymore.

"I thought Chris Benoit was your coach," she puzzled.

"He is," Angel told her, reaching for her towel again. "Blackman teaches me martial arts and hardcore. Well, he did. I'm gonna have to take a few weeks off until my arm's better."

"Oh," Trish replied distractedly, still staring up at Blackman. "That's awful."  
Angel couldn't help but smile. "Hey, Trish. Trish? Trish!"

"Hmm?" Trish asked, turning to face her at last.

"What's up?" Angel grinned.

"I need your help," Trish announced.

"With what?" Angel frowned.

"I have to do a speech tonight and I don't know what to say. You have to help me with it."

"Okay," Angel agreed. "So, what's it about?"  
"Hedonism."

"Right," Angel muttered. "Hedonism."  
"See you round, Angel," Steve Blackman said, stepping past them on his way to the door.

"Bye Steve, and thanks."

Blackman nodded, then left the room.

"I never noticed that before," Trish breathed.

"What?"  
"Steve Blackman is really, _really_ fine!"  
Angel laughed. "Okay, Trish. So, what's this about hedonism?"  
Trish snapped out of it. "It's a video. Me and the other divas in the Caribbean, wearing bathing suits and getting all wet."

"So what's the speech for?"  
"I have to convince the fans to buy the video. But I just don't know what to say."

"Why _should_ they buy it?" Angel prompted.

"Huh?" Trish frowned.

"You want the fans to buy the tape. Well, why should they when they can go get the Star Wars movies on DVD?"  
"Well, because _I'm_ in the video, of course," Trish replied, deadly serious.

"Uh huh," Angel nodded. "What else?"

"Me and the other divas are almost naked and all wet," Trish went on.

"Exactly," Angel smiled. "So, that's what you've gotta say."

"It is?" Trish frowned.

"It is. Listen, just let me go and get a shower, then I'll meet you at your room and help you get something down on paper," Angel suggested. "Sound good?"

Trish nodded, cheerful again. "Yes, Angel. Thanks so much!"  
"Hey," Angel grinned. "What are friends for?"

* * * *

"So, let me get this straight," Angel said. "On Sunday you're fighting Kurt Angle and you've spent the entire weekend preparing for it, but tonight you want Edge and Christian anyway?"  
Benoit nodded coolly. "That's right."  
"Well, okay," Angel shrugged. "Still, I think I better wait until Jericho gets here, just to make sure."  
"What?" Benoit snapped.

"Well, he would be your tag partner, right? I can't just assume that he wants what you want. Yes, I know I'm your manager and not his, but it really wouldn't be right to put him offside by just…"

She was cut off as the door swung open. There stood Jericho.

"Wolverine," he nodded at Benoit, before turning to Angel. "Rogue."

Angel broke into a smile and returned his nod. "Gambit."  
"A purist," Jericho commented. "I like that."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Benoit demanded.

Angel turned to him with a smirk. "Talk to Raven about it sometime. I'm sure he'll fill you in."  
"Oh yeah," Jericho agreed. "Raisin's a big X-Men fan."

Benoit scowled as the conversation continued to travel over his head. "Do you think we can talk about our match tonight? Oh wait. We don't _have_ a match, do we, bitch?"

Angel grinned at Jericho. "He wants Edge and Christian. How about you?"  
"I'm up for that," Jericho told her.

"Okay," Angel nodded. "I'll go set it up."

She headed for the door.

"Where the hell are you going, Y2J?" Benoit cried.

"I'm just going to make sure commissioner assclown doesn't try anything. Don't worry. We'll be back to talk strategy in a few minutes so sit tight, junior."

Benoit just scowled and shook his head. Why couldn't Jericho see what the bitch was doing? What the hell was the matter with him?

* * * *

Angel stepped confidently up to Regal's desk and leaned over imposingly.

"Hello, commissioner. How are you today?"  
Regal cringed and drew back. "Please, Miss Torres, you must cover yourself up. Your…uh, well, they're quite distracting."

Angel looked down at the view Regal would be getting, then back at him. "You revolting pervert. I came here to talk business. Do you think you can handle that or do I have to report you for sexual harassment?"

Now Regal was on the back foot. "What is it, Miss Torres? What do you want?"

Angel straightened up and formed a reflective look. "It's not about what _I _want. It's about what Benoit wants. He and Jericho want Edge and Christian in tag, just like you refused to give them on Thursday."

Regal was unmoved. "Oh, and I suppose they're waiting for you just outside like the loyal bodyguards they are."

"They sure are," Angel smirked.

"Do you know what I think, Miss Torres?" Regal asked.

"No, what?"  
"I think you're lying to me, you bloody little tart," Regal cried, lunging forward and grabbing Angel by the neck. "I think they're not out there at all. I think you're trying to make a fool out of me."  
"Help!" Angel screamed. "Jericho! Help!"  
"Keep on shouting," Regal encouraged, slamming Angel down onto the desk. "We both know they're not coming."

At that moment, Jericho burst into the room, fists flying. Angel jumped to safety and waited as Jericho gave Regal something to think about.

"I thought I told you not to give her any more trouble!" he cried. "How many times to I have to kick your ass before you get it through your head?"  
Regal cowered back until he hit the wall. Luckily for him, Jericho didn't follow. He just stood furiously, fists clenched.

"Did he give you what you wanted, baby?" Jericho asked Angel. She shook her head in response so he turned back to Regal, sick smirk in place. "Now, why not, assclown? Don't you ever learn?" He slowly approached Regal, eyes wild.

"Wait!" Regal cried at the critical moment. "You can have it! You can have your bloody match! Edge and Christian, you say? Done! Now remove yourselves from my office at once!"  
Jericho raised his eyebrows and turned to Angel. "I don't know, baby. I didn't hear him say please."

"Please! Please!" Regal cried.

Jericho nodded smugly and stepped over to Angel. "Done and done. See you later, assclown."

He and Angel put an arm around each other and headed for the door.

"You won't get away with this, Jericho," Regal told him.

Jericho stopped and turned back. "Of course I will. Who are you kidding?"  
With that, he and Angel exited the office, leaving Regal flat on his back and his desk looking like a disaster area. All in a day's work.

* * * *

"That is bullshit!" Benoit seethed.

This time, Angel had to agree with him. Raw had started a while ago and Kurt Angle had gone to visit the commissioner, who told him that if he won his match against Rikishi that night, he would be able to choose stipulations for the Judgment Day encounter with Benoit.

"No kidding, it's bullshit," Angel muttered. "He's only doing it to soften up Rikishi before Judgment Day. Damn yellow pussy."  
"Look on the bright side," Jericho told them. "Maybe the big guy will come up with the win."  
"Right," scowled both Angel and Benoit.

All three tuned into the television. Surprisingly, it looked as though Jericho was right. At worst, the match was even. At best, Rikishi was ahead. He even trapped Angle in the corner and grinned at the crowd, ready for the stinkface. 

At that moment, William Regal ran down the ramp. 

"Not a chance, jackass!" Angel screamed, leaping to her feet and bursting from the room.

"Get your ass back here, bitch!" Benoit boomed, but it was too late. She was already gone.

* * * *

By the time Angel reached the stage, the damage had been done. Rikishi was on the mat and the DQ had been called. A gloating Regal was surveying the damage as he backed up the ramp.

With a fighting stick in one hand, Angel launched herself, just as she had a week earlier. Her legs were locked around his waist and she pounded his head with the stick and with the cast.

"I don't even need Jericho to help me fight my battles," she sneered as Regal tried desperately to shrug her off. "But he is a damn useful friend. Don't screw with me, jackass…argh!"  
"Get off him!" Benoit screamed as he dragged her away. "What the hell are you thinking?"  
He dragged her backwards up the ramp as she struggled against his waistlock.

"Let me go, Benoit! Let me go!"  
Benoit didn't speak. He had to use all his energy to prevent her from getting free. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Kurt Angle sprinting up the ramp and leading with his right. He'd telegraphed it like a charm, so Benoit simply threw Angel aside, ducked the punch, twisted Angle around and brought him down into the crossface. 

Angel picked herself up and looked on, watching Benoit punish Angle. He was tapping, but Benoit was never going to let go.

Just then, Angel heard Kurt's voice.

"You wanna see Edge and Christian? Sure, I'll take you to them."  
And then it all came back. She entered the locker room, all happy and proud of herself. Rhyno slammed a trashcan into the back of her head and then it was on. She tried to get away but Kurt held her as the others hit her in the head with fists, with props, with anything they could get their hands on, over and over and over. She got her left hand free and tried to block the conchairto, but they slammed the chairs into her arm instead and pain roared through her. Her arm fell uselessly to her side as they kept hitting her and she screamed, but no one came. No one came. She remembered. She remembered it all.

Eyes full of tears, Angel stared over at Kurt.

"You son of bitch," she whispered. "You son of a bitch."

A low growl left her throat and she lost control, running over to Kurt and sinking her boot into his side as refs tried to pull Benoit away.

"You son of a bitch!" she kept screaming. "I'll make you pay. I will never forget this. Never!"

A few referees grabbed her and dragged her away and she fell to the ground, sobbing.

From far away, she heard Benoit's voice. "Get my valet! Someone get my damn valet!"

And then she was being carried, though she didn't know by who. Didn't know and didn't care. It was true. Everything Jericho had told her was true.

It was his voice she heard next.

"Are you okay, baby?"

She wept and held him tight. At least she thought it was him.

"He led me there, knowing what they were going to do to me. I had no idea. He held me back while they attacked me. They hit me in the head. They broke my arm. I couldn't get away. I tried to call for help. I kept screaming and screaming, but no one came. No one came to save me."  
"It's okay," Jericho soothed, one hand on her back and the other supporting the back of her head. "It's okay."

"You were the only one," Angel whispered, tears still streaming from her eyes. "You saved my life. They would have let me die. You saved me."

"It's okay," Jericho repeated. "You're still here. You're still fighting. It's okay."

They'd been standing there for some time when Trish Stratus walked past, on her way to the ring. 

"Angel! Chris! How are you guys?" she enthused, giving them a knowing smile.

Jericho answered for both of them, keeping his hand on the back of Angel's head so she didn't have to look up. 

"We're okay," he replied solemnly.

"Great!" Trish cried. "Well, I have to go do my speech now, but I'll see you guys later."

Jericho nodded. "Bye Trish."  
By now, Angel had stopped crying, so Jericho drew back to look her in the eye. "How you feeling?"  
Angel gave a meek half smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't know I was going to get my memory back. I guess it shocked me."

"Hey, no problem, baby," Jericho shrugged. "But you look like a wreck. Let's get you cleaned up."  
Angel nodded slowly and let him lead her into the women's locker room.

"Chris Jericho!" called a voice. "I haven't seen you in here in what, at least two weeks."

Jericho gave a sarcastic grin. "Shove it, Chyna. And go get me a towel."  
"Yes, master," Chyna muttered, finding one for him. "Hey, it's Angel, right? What's up?"

Jericho turned to Chyna as Angel bent over the sink and washed her face. "She was faced with the sight of both Kirk Angel and Commissioner Regal."

Chyna cringed. "That'd bring anyone to tears."

"Yeah, no kidding," Jericho nodded.

Angel took the towel from Jericho and wiped her face dry. 

"I'm okay now," she said quietly. 

"Great, baby. Well, I guess I'll see you later," he said to Chyna.

"Bye Chris. And try to stay out of the women's room. I know it's hard for you."  
Jericho smirked at her. "You want me."

"Right, Chris. Keep on dreaming."

Jericho just shook his head and led Angel from the room. "Oh yeah, she wants me, baby. Too bad she can't have me."

* * * *

Angel sat quietly as Benoit and Jericho went through their final match preparations. Her eyes were closed and she rocked slightly as she concentrated on her thoughts.

'I am a vigilante,' she thought. 'They broke me once. Never again. They will pay for what they've done. Everyone is accountable in the end. I am a vigilante.'

She slowly opened her eyes to find that Benoit was staring down at her.

"Come on," he said darkly. "It's time."

She nodded solemnly and got to her feet.

"Here," Benoit added, handing her something.

"What's this?" she frowned.

"A medal. Put it on."  
"Okay. We're wearing uniforms today. Whatever."  
Angel hooked the medal over her head and followed Benoit from the locker room. They made their entrance, both cool and calm and when they reached the ring, Benoit turned to Angel and removed his medal, then motioned for her to do the same.

"Whatever," she said again, before handing it to him. He stepped over to hang them from the ringpost, but Angel wasn't watching him anymore. Jericho was about to arrive. She smiled as he made his ever-flamboyant entrance and joined them at the bottom of the ramp. Angel held out her hands and Jericho brought his fists down on them gently, but when she turned to do the same to Benoit, he just gave her a look. She sighed, rolled her eyes and headed for the corner. 

Jericho decided to start things off with Christian and circled him slowly, picking his spot.

"Come on, Jerky!" Angel cried as they locked up and the ringbell sounded. "Kick his ass!"  
Jericho scored the first knockdown with a clothesline off the ropes and then a bulldog into a cover. Christian kicked out early, but Jericho pushed him into the corner and tagged in Benoit. 

Angel peered up at the ref, who was busy giving Jericho the standard five seconds before making him leave the ring. She gave a slow nod and ran quickly, keeping her head low and pulling out one of her sticks. A she reached the opposite corner, she leaped off the steps, slammed the stick into Edge's back and was running again before she even hit the ground.

"Hey!" Edge cried, looking down furiously, but Angel just kept running until she was safely back in her own corner. 

"Come on, Benoit!" she cried, tapping on the canvas with her stick before she realized just how conspicuous that looked, so she put her stick away and started over. "Come on, Benoit!"  
Just then, Benoit telegraphed a back body drop and Christian kicked him in the head, then raced over to tag in Edge. Christian wasn't the only one racing – Angel was on the move again.

This time, when she reached the other corner, she had a new plan. Again she jumped, but this time she reached out, grabbed the top of Christian's tights and dragged him down off the apron. Before he knew what was going on, she'd tangled her legs with his in a modified figure four and was landing fast, furious punches to his kidneys. Christian cried out and tried desperately to struggle free, but Angel was determined not to be beaten and held him down strongly, using her hold to hyperextend his knee.

Christian breathed heavily. There was totally no way he was going to let some crazy chick keep him down. So he moved his hands, grabbed her left arm and, using all his strength, slammed it down on the steps.

"Argh!" Angel screamed, immediately releasing him. 

Christian wasted no time leaping back up onto the apron, then rushing in to help Edge, who had just experienced German suplex number two. But Benoit simply ducked the punch and brought Christian down into the crossface. Before Christian could tap, Edge connected with a dropkick to Benoit's skull, forcing him to break the hold. Edge continued kicking Benoit, sending him back towards Christian and the corner. 

Whimpering with pain, Angel had only made it to her knees, but she peered into the ring and spotted Benoit, who was reeling after each kick from Edge. She grabbed the apron and pulled herself up so that she was standing, then reached out, took Benoit's hand and curled it over the rope. The ref chose that moment to look down.

"One…two…three...four. He's on the rope, Edge. He's on the rope."  
Angel let out a relieved sigh and dragged herself back to her own corner. She reached it just in time to hear the crowd go "Whoo!" after a Benoit chop to Edge.

"Come on, Benoit," she encouraged, trying to ignore the pain in her arm.

But Edge simply raked Benoit's eyes, scored a takedown and tagged in Christian. 

Angel grabbed a stick, took a deep breath and ran. Again, Edge wasn't ready for it and her stick shot to his back caused him to release Benoit from the boot to the throat. By the time he turned around, Angel was nowhere in sight.

Edge shook his head and encouraged Christian, who now had the cover.

"Yeah! Alright!" Angel cried as Benoit kicked out.

Christian tagged Edge and Angel was on the go again.

"Hey!" cried an unfamiliar voice. "Valet! What are you doing?"  
Angel stopped to give the ref and innocent look. "Just taking a walk, sir."  
"Stay in your corner!" the ref ordered.

Angel simply raised her hands and walked slowly back towards Jericho. She'd have another chance. The ref couldn't watch her all the time.

And just then, as the ref reprimanded Christian for being illegally in the ring, Angel got her chance.

Jericho was set to go up top.

"Rogue, baby, get a chair and be ready near the ramp."

Angel nodded rapidly and set off. She didn't have much time.

"Chair!" she screamed, evicting the nearest seated person. Then she ran quickly and stood right behind Christian.

She didn't have long to wait. Jericho nailed the missile dropkick on Edge, then raced over and punched Christian in the face. As he fell from the ring, Angel was there and the chair cracked across Christian's skull with sickening force. She then looped the chair through the air and slammed it down into Christian's stomach. Finally, she went for a third shot, but Christian got his legs up and kicked out, sending Angel tumbling backwards and forcing her to drop the chair.

Humiliated, she picked herself up and noticed immediately that Christian was in; Edge was out.

She formed a sick smile. Edge. Reaching down for the stick, she was on her way again. But just as she leaped, Edge spun around and reacted quickly, grabbing her flying body and flipping it over, letting it slam down onto the ground. Angel lay where she fell, gasping in air and trying desperately to reinflate her lungs. Things had been pretty scary there for a second, but she was okay; she was just winded.

When she finally picked herself up, she noticed that Benoit had finally made the tag to Jericho and Christian had tagged in Edge. Edge reversed a chop into a whip, which sent Jericho flying into Christian, knocking him off the apron.

Angel was off and running again. Sure, she was opportunistic and possibly even a little crazy, but this was about revenge and she was damn sure gonna have it. 

This time, she didn't use any fancy props. She just sunk her boots into Christian, just as she'd done to Kurt Angle earlier in the night. Whenever he tried to fight back, she jumped away, just out of reach, then ran into again and continued her assault.

Christian dug deep and despite Angel's kicks, managed to pull himself into the ring and break the Walls of Jericho Y2J had on Edge.

Angel scowled up at him, shaking her head. Next time, she wouldn't let him get away. Benoit had just thrown Christian from the ring and jumped down after him to continue the battle on the outside. Angel gave a confident nod and climbed up onto the apron. In a few seconds, Benoit and Christian would appear around the corner. In a few seconds, she would fly.

Bam! Christian slammed Benoit's head into the ringpost, then kept on walking. He hadn't seen Angel.

"Arrgh!" Angel screamed, just like she used to. 

Christian looked up just in time to see Angel leap through the air and bring him down in a hurricanrana. She bounced to her feet and ran to get a chair, forgetting about the one she'd dropped at the bottom of the ramp. Smirking to herself, she turned back to Christian, chair in hand when crack! The other chair slammed into her head and she fell heavily to the ground. 

Christian gave a satisfied nod, grabbed the chair from her and put it in the ring, then climbed in after it, still carrying his own chair. Edge picked up the one on the mat. It was conchairto time and Y2J was the man of the hour. 

Benoit was just picking himself up when he spotted her, lying on the ground and holding her head.

"Bitch!" he screamed, climbing into the ring.

Edge and Christian slammed their chairs against the canvas, then sung them towards Jericho, but he ducked just in time. Edge and Christian then spun awkwardly into a Benoit dropkick, which slammed the chairs into their bodies and their backs into the mat.

"Dammit," Angel seethed, grabbing at her head with her right arm and rolling to her side.

"No! Kurt!" she cried suddenly.

He had sprinted down the ramp, headed straight for the ringpost and the medals. Before anyone could stop him, he'd grabbed them and raced up the ramp again. 

Inside the ring, Jericho hit the lionsault on Edge, hooked his leg and one…two…three. They had the win. 

Benoit clambered to his feet and finally spotted Kurt, who was calling out to him from the stage.

"I got my medals back, Benoit. I don't have to go to the Pay Per View. I got my medals back."  
Summoning all her strength, Angel dragged herself into the ring and Jericho's side. He helped her stand, giving her a concerned frown.

"Are you okay?"  
Angel blinked at him through the pain that was roaring through her skull. "My head hurts."

She opened her eyes a little wider and was faced with the sight of Benoit glaring at her.

"What?"  
"Get the microphone, bitch."  
"Fine," Angel groaned, searching for it, picking it up and holding it out for Benoit to take. 

He formed a smirk and turned to the stage.

"Hey Angle!"  
Kurt looked back at him. "I got my medals, Benoit!"  
Benoit went on. "Kurt Angle! I hope you like your medals. They're real sweet. As a matter of fact, they're a lot sweeter than you think they are. Because they're made of candy, just like your ass!"

"What?" Kurt cried incredulously. 

He ripped the medals from around his neck and examined them urgently. He tried bending one, but it just snapped in his hand. He tested the other one, but it too crumbled. 

"You son of a bitch! They're candy!" he cried incredulously. "You son of a bitch!"  
Back in the ring, Benoit and Jericho were gloating, while a still dazed Angel kept blinking heavily and attempting to remain upright, despite her urge to curl up and go to sleep. She watched Benoit and Jericho through slitted eyes. They seemed to be having a lot of fun with Benoit's purple tights, although she really couldn't see or think clearly enough to be sure. Suddenly, Benoit held aloft the gold medal he kept down his trunks, then looked expectantly over at Angel.

'Oh,' she thought. 'He wants me to hold up the one I've got.'

She did just that, reaching down her top, locating the medal and whipping it out. The crowd went crazy, but Kurt Angle was far less impressed.

"Hey, those are my medals! You better give those back, Benoit!"  
Benoit quickly grabbed the medal from Angel and held both of them up. "These Olympic gold medals. Well, I know how much you want them. All you have to do is prove me wrong at Judgment Day."

Kurt was livid. "Just you wait 'til the Pay Per View! Just you wait!"  
But the moment belonged to Benoit, who put both medals around his neck and raised both arms for the crowd, before finally exiting the ring. 

Jericho stepped over to Angel and put a hand on her back. "You ready to go, baby?"  
She nodded weakly. 

Jericho raised his eyebrows at her. "Do you need to go see the trainer?"  
Angel nodded again.

"Okay," Jericho mused. "We'll get you there."

And that was the best idea Angel had heard all night.

* * * *

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Benoit demanded.

"It's Monday," Angel replied, ignoring him in favor of the trainer, who was checking her eyes for their accommodation reflex. 

Jericho answered for her. "She got a knock to the head."

"I asked _her_," Benoit snapped. "She can talk. What's wrong with you, bitch?"

Angel squinted up at him, unable to see through the blinding light. "I got hit in the head."  
"How?" Benoit demanded. "How did that happen?"  
"Christian swung a chair and my head jumped in the way."

Benoit was not amused. "I thought I told you to stay in the corner and keep out of the action."

Angel just blinked heavily. "Since when have I given a crap what _you_ tell me to do?"

Benoit slowly shook his head. "Do you _want_ to keep getting attacked?"  
"No," Angel pouted. "But I do want to fight my own battles."  
"You can't," Benoit replied emphatically. 

"Why not?"  
"Because you're a girl."  
"Wow, how observant of you, asshole. What the hell has being a girl got to do with it?"

"Everything."

"Like what?" Angel insisted.

"You're smaller than a man."

"I'm like the same height you are, shortass," Angel challenged.

Benoit scowled. "You're weaker than a man."

"The Big Show, yes," Angel agreed. "But I honestly think I could take Christian."

"You can't."

"Why not?"  
"Because you're a girl."  
Angel fumed at him. "So, why the hell are you wasting your time training me, huh? And don't say it's so I'll keep making your matches because you wanted to coach me before the manager thing even came up."  
"I coach you to fight women," Benoit scowled.

"What a crock!" Angel cried. "I know why you started coaching me. It's because you wanted Al Snow out of the way. While I was training with him, that was just one little part of my life you didn't control. Well, guess what, Benoit? Just because you got rid of Al, it doesn't mean you control me. If I want to interfere, I'll interfere. You can't stop me."

"The hell I can't!" Benoit snapped.

Angel shook her head and glared at him confidently. "Not without putting your own matches at risk. I'm going to attack who I like when I like and there's nothing you can do about it."

"Oh no?" Benoit challenged.

"Well," Angel replied slowly. "I guess there is one thing. You could fire me. You could set me free."

Benoit smirked at her. "Nice try."  
"Oh well," Angel shrugged. "It's your choice. But as long as you keep fighting people I have issues with, I'm going to keep on reminding them that I'm still alive. And the best way to tell them that is with the only language you people seem to understand. Hardcore violence."

"I think she did a good job," Jericho piped up.

Benoit spun to glare at him. "I don't care what you think. I didn't ask you."

"Okay," Jericho shrugged. "But before you judge her, just remember Chyna. She's been IC champ as many times as either of us."

"The bitch is not Chyna," Benoit said darkly.

"No and I'm not you. It doesn't mean we're not both great wrestlers."

Benoit scowled at him. "When I want your opinion, Y2J, I will ask for it. Now, come on, princess. We're leaving."

"But Mr. Benoit," the trainer protested. "I'm not done…"

"We're leaving!" Benoit shouted.

Angel cringed and stood up slowly, before sharing a smile with Jericho. "My dad says I have to go now."  
Jericho grinned. "I'll see you later, Rogue."

Angel stepped up for a hug goodbye and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for sticking up for me."  
Just then, Benoit grabbed her arm and wrenched her from Jericho's grasp and out of the trainer's room.

"God," Angel cried, pulling her arm free. "Take a pill!"  
Benoit spun furiously. "That's not funny."

Angel raised her eyebrows. "It wasn't supposed to be."

She sighed and reached into her pocket before pulling out a broken and slightly melted candy gold medal and popping it in her mouth. The chocolate melting in her mouth was just like heaven.

"Mmm," she murmured happily. "That's good medal."

Benoit turned to give her his death glare. "Are you eating the medals? I got those to fool Kurt."

"Best tasting prank ever," Angel enthused, grinning at how pissed off she was making him. 

Benoit grabbed her arm even more tightly and pulled her along at double speed.

"Walk faster!" he ordered, knowing she was having a little trouble walking at all. 

He was in foul mood and it was all her fault. Tonight was supposed to be his night, teaching Edge and Christian a tag team lesson, having Kurt fall right into his little trap. But the bitch had ruined it all. Couldn't she once do as she was told? It wasn't as though it was such a big request – stay out of trouble. Benoit was sick to death of having to avenge her stupid mistakes. But she was intent on making them, intent on picking fights, intent on ignoring everything he said.

Jericho thought it was great – finally she was on their side. She wanted to be a part of the team. She wanted to help out, even if that meant foolishly putting her own body on the line. Benoit didn't buy it, but Jericho was sold. The impossible was happening. The whore was charming Jericho and he was falling for it. Benoit really hadn't thought it possible, but the bitch was young and smart and pretty and it seemed no one was immune. Not even Jericho. And if she asked him to fight for her…

Benoit was losing control. The thought hit him like Triple H's sledgehammer. The whore had been right about that. He was losing control. And, for a man whose life was so ordered, so precise, there was nothing more worrying in the world. And the thought that the bitch would rise above him, taking Jericho with her; Jericho with his pretty blonde hair and smart mouth; Jericho, who'd punished Benoit so many times before. It couldn't happen. He couldn't let it. 

The bitch thought she was part of the team? Well, he'd show her for what she was – a weak, pathetic, fragile little girl. Then Jericho would see. And he'd stop putting her on a pedestal. Things would be as they had been, as they should always be. There was no room for a girl on the team. And if Benoit could help it, there never would be.


	54. That Old Feeling

Title: That Old Feeling

Spoilers: Smackdown, including direct dialogue from Kurt Angle and Chris Benoit (something I should have warned you about last chapter, too)

Summary: Ever had one of those feelings when you just know something big's about to happen? (geez, how dodgy was that summary? Nearly as bad as the title, lol)

A/N - the penultimate R rated chappy…I'm actually feeling quite sad that some of you guys won't be able to read on much longer…feel free to, though, it's not that hard (wait, did I say that? Now I'm like Tazz, corrupting the morals of minors, yikes!)…but I will give a new disclaimer so you know what you're in for. I wasn't gonna update today but I probably won't have time tomorrow, so I thought I'd better. You guys are all beautiful, wonderful people and this chapters for everyone, including some notables who should have had chapters dedicated to them but haven't - mostly Sandra Smit and Angel Metis, though I'm sure there are others *cringes* Sorry if I missed you! This chapter's title was NOT stolen from the latest chapter of Shadow's fic 'Still a superheroine, but not a sidekick'. I wrote this first, but Shadow didn't know I'd written it so she didn't steal either. While I'm at it, read her fic, it's adorable! But yeah, I'll shut up now!

SMACKDOWN, MAY 17TH, 2001

Angel's breaths came in ragged gasps as she tried to ignore the pain in her neck and upper back. Benoit had the waistlock on and she'd already gone for one German. Bam! Her back hit the ground again and she cried out a little. She felt him hoisting her to her feet for the third, never breaking the waistlock.

"Reversal!" her brain screamed. "Reversal!"

Just then, time seemed to freeze as she puzzled over it, as if the universe wasn't ready to see her go for the third suplex like she had on so many other mornings. Her first instincts told her "low blow", but she'd never hear the end of it if she tried that. Time wouldn't stop forever. She had to act.

Wham! Her elbow swung through the air and clipped Benoit right on the chin. His head snapped back and, while he didn't release the hold, he relaxed it just enough for Angel to wriggle to his side, tangle her legs with his and slam him down in the side Russian leg sweep. In a second she'd bounced back to her feet and was beckoning for him to stand.

"Come on, jackass. Show me what you've got."  
Benoit furiously ran at her for a clothesline, but she ducked her legs down for the perfect drop toehold. Benoit flew forward, right into the ropes. Angel measured his fall and rolled just a little towards the ropes as Benoit toppled backwards. At just the right moment, she reached up, grabbed Benoit's waist and rolled him up for the pin.

"One…two...okay, that's two. Let him go, Angel. Let him go."

Angel frowned as she got to her feet. Since when had the practice session included a ref? Maybe she was still suffering the effects of her Monday night concussion. But she didn't have much time to think about that – Benoit was getting up. She spun around and met him with a marital arts kick, then grabbed him under her right arm and slammed his face into the mat. Bulldog. Benoit was down, but she knew he wasn't quite finished yet. 

Angel sucked in a huge breath of air and quickly climbed up top. She turned back just long enough to judge the distance before flying in the moonsault. She landed it, hooked Benoit's leg and one…two…

"Two!" cried the ref. "Get off him, baby."  
Baby? Angel was so surprised she dropped Benoit to the canvas and turned to look for Jericho. If this was only in her mind she was one messed up chick. Before she knew it, she was on the mat and Benoit had the crossface locked on.

Angel cried out. Always crossface. He always beat her with crossface. Well, not today. Today she would reach the ropes. He had her left arm in the leg scissors just above the cast, so she dug in deep with her right and legs, trying desperately to scramble forward.

"Go girl," she encouraged herself as the hold became even more painful and it got more and more difficult to even concentrate. "You can make it. You can make it."  
It was working. The ropes, barely visible over Benoit's hands, were coming closer and closer. She was doing it!

And just then, Benoit released the hold, slammed his hands down on the back of Angel's head, dragged her back into the center of the ring and locked on again.

"Son of a bitch!" Angel screamed. And then she tapped.

"Okay, Benoit. She tapped, it's over."

Benoit slammed her head into the canvas again, then jumped to his feet, smirk in place. Angel rolled over onto her back and waited while she amassed the energy to get up.

Jericho crouched by her side and offered his hand. She gratefully took it and he helped her to her feet.

"One of these days I'll break that damn hold," she panted.

"It's not easy, baby, trust me," Jericho consoled her, before turning to Benoit. "Watch it, junior. She almost had you…twice."  
Benoit scowled at him. "Who won?"  
Jericho just broke into a grin. "I think you got lucky." He peered back at Angel again. "I really liked your hands free attacks. That's smart."  
Angel grinned. "Thanks. I have to do _something_ to make up for this." She held up her left arm. 

"Shooter work," Jericho mused. "Nice."

"Y2J, what are you doing here?" Benoit demanded.

Jericho noticed the irritation in his voice, but was not put off. "I thought the three of us could practice together today."  
Benoit sniffed and raised his eyebrows. "She's done. I beat her."  
"This time," Jericho teased, before backing off a little. "Relax, junior. You're the reason I'm here. I thought I could help prep you for Judgment Day by playing the part of Kirk Angel and throwing his moves at you."  
"I already do that," Angel informed him. "You should see my Angle Slam."  
"She can't do an Angle Slam," Benoit muttered.

"Sure I can," Angel insisted. "Only problem is it always ends up as a crossbody for my opponent."  
"A crossbody as a reversal for an Angle Slam?" Jericho mused. "Baby, that's pure genius."  
Benoit scowled again, eager to end the mutual admiration society going on in front of him.

"Thanks," he told Jericho. "But I'd rather practice alone."  
Jericho just shrugged and turned to leave.

"Oh, come on, Benoit!" Angel cried. "It'll be fun. I'll be ref."  
"No, you won't," Benoit snapped.

"Go with it, junior," Jericho suggested.

"Have you seen her ref?" Benoit demanded. "She'll fast count."  
"You're paranoid," Jericho smirked. "And even if she does, so what? You don't know what stips Kirk will ask for, do you? Maybe he'll want commissioner assclown as ref. You think Regal won't fast count you? You have to be ready for anything."  
"Okay," Benoit said slowly. "Little girl, you're ref. Jericho, you're Angle. Let's do this."

Angel looked over at Jericho with a smile. This was going to be fun.

* * * *

Benoit scowled as he followed Angel and Jericho down the hallway. He could hear what they were saying and he was not impressed. He'd beaten Jericho that morning, fair and square, forced him to submit to the crossface, forced the damn whore to call the match, but yet he was the one who felt like the loser.

They were talking about him, each saying the other had let him win that morning in their respective matches when they both knew that was bullshit. He'd beaten them and they knew it. But still they kept on, sneaking the occasional glance back to see if he was listening, like he was some kid they were trying to protect from their words. Their words held no truth and they knew it. He slowly shook his head and wondered if they were going to start spelling out words soon to even further spare him from their lies. 

"Bitch!" he snapped. "Go get me a match."

She stopped and rolled her eyes at him, like he was some burden she was saddled with and not the other way around.

"Who do you want?" she asked calmly.

"Kurt Angle."  
"Okay." She smiled sweetly. "You got it." She turned back to Jericho. "You wanna keep playing with Edge and Christian, right?"  
He nodded solemnly. "I just love those guys."  
"Alright," she grinned. "I'll meet you guys back at the locker room. Try to keep your pants on 'til then, okay?"  
And then she walked away, humming cheerfully.

Jericho waited for Benoit to catch up.

"She's something, ain't she?" he asked with a grin.

"No," Benoit replied darkly. "She's nothing. Nothing."  
Jericho raised his eyebrows, mouthed the word 'okay' and continued down the hallway, a very pissed off Benoit by his side.

* * * *

Angel pushed open the door to William Regal's office.

"Hello…"

"Stop right there, Miss Torres. Do not take another step."  
Angel cocked her head. "Why not? Is this place rigged with explosives? Come on, Regal. That's a little excessive, isn't it?"

Regal glared at her. "I'm deadly serious, young lady. You will vacate my office at once."  
Angel folded her arms as best she could and smirked at him. "But I need to talk to you about Benoit and Jericho's matches."

"They're already booked. Now leave, Miss Torres."

"What?" Angel cried. "They're booked? Who for?"  
Regal looked down at the booking sheet and read from it. "Mr. Benoit will be facing Kurt Angle and myself."

"What?" Angel cried. "No. He's not going to go for that. No way."

"…With Rikishi as his partner," Regal went on.

Angel paused. "Tag? Oh. Well, what about Jericho?"  
Regal looked disgusted at the mere mention of that name. "He will be facing Edge."  
"Just Edge?" Angel asked skeptically.

"Just Edge."

"Oh," Angel said again. "Okay."

"I trust this is satisfactory?" Regal asked evenly.

"Yeah," Angel nodded. "At least, I think so."

"Good. Now get out."  
"Huh?"

"Remove yourself, you filthy little tart."

"Come now, that's not nice, you limey freak."  
"Miss Torres!"  
"Okay, okay," Angel muttered. "I'm going. "See ya Monday."  
She let herself out of the office, still somewhat confused. That had gone far too smoothly. There had to be a catch. Trouble was, she couldn't figure out what it was.

Oh well, she'd gotten Benoit and Jericho what they'd wanted. If Regal tried anything now, she really couldn't be held responsible. Could she?

She was still frowning when she reached the locker room and stepped inside.

Benoit took one look at her and broke into a smirk. "You couldn't do it, could you, bitch? You didn't get me Kurt. Go…"

"No," Angel cut him off, still frowning. "You and Rikishi have Regal and Angle and you, Jerky, have Edge."

She stepped over and plonked herself down on the bench. Jericho raised his head from where he was applying baby oil to shine up his muscles.

"You seem down, baby."

Angel shrugged. "Something's not right. I don't know what, but I just have a feeling Regal didn't give me the whole story."

"Ya think?" Jericho grinned. "Seriously, baby. Forget about it. If he tries anything, we'll get him back, just like before."

"Yeah," Angel sighed. "I don't know. It just doesn't feel right, you know?"  
"It's called the after effects of a chair shot to the head," Jericho informed her. "I'm feeling it too."

Angel finally smiled. "Just a couple of headcases, right?"  
"You got it, baby."  
Smile still on her lips, she watched him work the baby oil into his skin. She'd seen Benoit do that before, but she'd never really cared.

"Hey Jerky?"

"Yeah, baby?"

"Do you need some help with that? I could help?"

Jericho gave her a sexy grin. "Thanks, but I got it."

"Okay," Angel shrugged indifferently. "Just thought I'd offer." She got to her feet and stepped over to the punching bag before letting rip. Bam, bam, bam.

"Hey, baby?"  
Angel stopped her assault and turned around.

"There's a part on my back I can't quite reach. You think you can get it for me?"  
Angel raised her eyebrows and shook out her shoulders. "You had your chance."

"Oh, come on, baby," Jericho cajoled her. "You know you want to."

Angel cocked her head and smirked at him. "Okay," she said finally. "But just this once."

Jericho grinned and held up the bottle of baby oil, then squeezed a little onto the palm of her right hand. 

"Just there," he told her.

"Alrighty," Angel mused, sizing up his back, her canvas. She applied the baby oil and watched it trail down his back before she stopped it with a sweep of her hand. She rubbed it in carefully. "How's that?"  
"Oh yeah, baby," Jericho teased. "That's good. That's real good. Keep going. Oh yeah, that's the spot."

Angel grinned, shook her head, then brought her hand down on his shoulder with an oily slap. "Jackass."

Jericho turned around, self-confident smirk in place. "You love it."

Angel gave a little laugh. "That's me. Here for all your baby oil needs. Hey Benoit. You want me to do you too?"  
Benoit's glare changed as he raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, get your mind out of the gutter," Angel went on. "I meant the baby oil." 

"I know what you meant," Benoit scowled.

Angel was unmoved. "Do you want it or not?"  
Finally he nodded.

"Okay," Angel told him. She got up and walked over to him, baby oil bottle in hand. When she got there, she handed it to him. "Knock yourself out. And I mean that literally." Then she turned and headed for the punching bag again. She still couldn't shake that feeling that something major was about to happen. Not even giving Jericho a baby oil backrub had helped.

'By the end of the night you'll know,' she told herself. 'I just hope when I do find out, everyone's okay.'

* * * *

Knock knock knock.

Angel leaped to her feet so she could perform her duty as door bitch. When the door flew open, she jumped back a little, suddenly face to face with four hundred and twenty-five pounds of Rikishi. 

"Where's Benoit?" he demanded. "Him and me, we gotta talk strategy."

"Come on in," Angel frowned, stepping out of the way. She watched from where she was standing as Benoit and Rikishi, neither of them the most animated man alive, discussed their match.

"Hey Rogue. Wanna help me stretch up?"  
Finally roused from her thoughts, she stepped over to Jericho.

"Okay. Stand right there and don't let me push you back."

Jericho pressed his hands against her shoulders and leaned in, stretching his legs. 

"Nice, baby. You're just the right height for this."

Angel smiled at the compliment, but her eyes were trained on something else. Jericho turned around and noticed straight away. 

"What's wrong, baby?"  
"That guy," Angel mused.

"Rikishi Fat-Ass? What about him?"

"Isn't he…oh, I don't know. Evil?"

Jericho scoffed. "Evil? What makes you say that?"  
Angel still frowned at the big man. "When I was in Team eXtreme, he stinkfaced Lita and he crushed Jeff's ribs. You know, back when I cared."

"You still care," Jericho said softly.

"Yeah, maybe," she admitted. "He gave Matt a stinkface too. They were my friends and he tried to destroy them. And now I'm supposed to be on his team?"

"Baby, it's just a tag match," Jericho consoled her. "Besides, he rubbed his big fat ass in that slut Stephanie's face last week. Anyone who does that has to be worth getting to know."

"You're probably right," Angel sighed. "Still…"

"You still have that feeling?" Jericho guessed.

"Yeah. I don't know. I just feel like something big's about to happen."

"Well," Jericho commented, eyeing Rikishi. "They don't come much bigger than that guy. You need to relax, baby. Any tenser and you'd be Benoit."

Angel made a face. "We don't want that to happen."

"No, one is definitely enough." He pulled her in for a comforting hug. "It'll be okay, baby. You'll see."

"Ick!" Angel cried. "You're slimy!"  
"Your fault," Jericho shot back. "You oiled me up real good."

Angel broke away from him, unable to conceal her grin. "You know what, Jerky? You make me smile. I can't say that about too many people."

Jericho grinned back. "You're sweet," he told her. "So, you wanna get back into these stretches?"  
"Sure," Angel nodded. "Sculpt me as you will."

* * * *

Angel and Benoit stood in the backstage area, listening to Kurt Angle speak.

"Now, the good commissioner has allowed me to pick the match which I will beat Chris Benoit in at Judgment Day. Listen up, people. The match I'm talking about is the perfect match."

"Alright," Angel cheered. "Ladder match."

Benoit turned and scowled at her.

"Relax, I'm just kidding," she sighed. "Kurt'd never choose a ladder match. You'd wipe the floor with him."

Benoit had to admit she was right about that, but Kurt was still talking. In fact, he was calling Benoit out. 

"Get the microphone," Benoit ordered Angel, watching as the tech guys cued his music. He stepped out onto the stage, microphone in hand and valet by his side. 

"Now, Benoit," Kurt went on. "I realize that my precious gold medals, my poor gold medals, are resting comfortably against your genitals."

Benoit looked down as Angel slapped herself in the chest. "I got one right here too, mate. Don't forget about that."

But she needn't have worried. Kurt knew all about it.

"I also know that you force Angel, your valet, to keep one nestled safely in her…her…cleavage."

The crowd roared at the mention of that word as Angel grinned smugly. Kurt was not a happy boy, however, and he wanted everyone to know it.

"Personally, I think you're sick, Benoit! But not nearly as sick as the match that I have in store for you. This Sunday at Judgment Day, I will face you in a straight-up wrestling match."

"What?" Angel cried. "You've gotta be kidding."

"No catches, no crazy stipulations. Just you and me, the ring and no excuses," Kurt went on. "How do you like that, Benoit?"

"I've pulled better matches out my ass," Angel muttered.

Benoit ignored her and lifted the mic to his mouth. "You know, Kurt Angle. Your idea…it reminds me an awful lot of you. It really sucks!"

"Oh!" Angel cried. "That hurt."

Benoit turned to glare at her, before concentrating on Kurt again. 

"You know, it's like this, Kurt. I say I'm better than you. And I say the fact that I have your gold medals proves it. You know, Kurt, you really disappoint me. I'd have thought you'd have come up with a lot more creative a way than having a straight wrestling match? Now I say we settle this, once and for all, no ifs, ands or buts about it. This Sunday we fight two out of three falls. First fall – pinfalls only. Second fall – submissions only. If that's okay with you, Kurt."

Kurt smirked over at him. "Hey, that's fine with me. I have no problem with that. But let's just say, maybe you cheat again and manage to squeak out a win. Then what happens, Benoit?"

Benoit put his hand on his chin and thought about it. "Well, you know, Kurt. That's really simple. Ladder match!"

"Ladder match?" Kurt cried indignantly.

"Yes!" Angel cheered. "Watch him squirm."

"If it's tied at one," Benoit explained. "We take the medals, suspend them above the ring and the first man to climb up the ladder and grab them gets the gold."

"Hold on a second!" Kurt cried. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. A ladder match? No freakin' way, Benoit. No way."

"Are you scared, Kurt?" Benoit mocked.

"Look at him," Angel sneered. "The bitch is crapping himself."

"Whoa, I'm not scared," Kurt protested. "I'm not scared of anything. If you want a ladder match for the third fall, you got it, buster."

"Oh my God," Angel murmured. "He agreed to it. You're going to kill him."

"To be honest with you," Kurt went on. "It's not going to get that far. Now, let's get on with this match tonight."

Angel gave a little laugh and started with Benoit down the ramp. "Kurt's a dead man. What is he _thinking_?"

Benoit turned to give her his death glare. "Jericho's not here to listen to you pretending to cheer for me."

Angel frowned. "What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

But Benoit just scowled. "Go stand in the corner. And keep out of it."

"Yes, master," Angel muttered, knowing she wouldn't. She climbed up onto the steps and watched as Rikishi made his entrance.

Angle and Regal met their opponents outside the ring and it was on. Kurt and Benoit battled past Angel and she bolted off the steps and followed them. Benoit caught sight of her just as he landed a chop to Kurt's chest.

"Stay in the corner, bitch."

"Fine!" Angel cried, stomping back to the steps.

By now, Regal and Rikishi were in the ring, so Benoit disposed of Kurt, then hurried back to wait for the tag. He got it almost immediately and Angel grinned, ready to go cause trouble.

"Where you headed, girl?" Rikishi asked.

Angel sighed. Benoit must have told him to keep an eye on her. "I'm just gonna go kick Kurt Angle's ass."

"Okay," Rikishi nodded. "Go for it."

"All right," Angel grinned. Maybe Rikishi wasn't so bad after all. She raced quickly around the ring. "Hey, Kurt!"

He turned, spotted her, then turned quickly back to the ring. "Go away, Angel."

"Oh, come on. I just wanna talk."

Kurt didn't answer, so she went on.

"You know, I seem to recall that Regal said you could make the stips for the match on Sunday. And yet you let Benoit call the shots. You know what you are?"

Kurt turned and glared at her. "No. What?"

Angel smirked. "A pussy."

"What?" Kurt fumed.

"You're a pussy, Kurt. Look at you!"

"You better shut up," Kurt warned. "You better keep your damn mouth closed."

Angel just widened her eyes. "Meow!"

"I'm warning you, Angel…"

Suddenly, there was another voice. "Young man, I'm ready to make the tag."

Angel just gloated at the confusion, and the job well done. But just then, Benoit moved towards his corner, like he was going to tag in Rikishi.

"Crap!" Angel cried, racing back around to where she was supposed to be. She had a couple of seconds as Benoit helped double team Angle and then Regal. Angel grinned. Kurt was out again. Unfortunately, so was Benoit.

"I mean it, bitch. Don't move."

Angel sighed. "Rikishi!" she shouted. "Tag Benoit! Tag Benoit!"

And just then, he did.

"Yes!" Angel was on the move. "Hi, Kurt. I'm back. Wanna play?"

Kurt ignored her. "Come on, Regal!"

"Here, kitty, kitty," Angel mocked.

Kurt looked across the ring. The ref was busy with Rikishi, so he climbed in and forced Benoit away from Regal, then climbed back out again.

"How'd you like that, Angel?" he gloated.

"Oh, that was real good, Kurt," Angel replied patronizingly. "In fact, I think you deserve a medal for that!" She reached down her top and held up the medal for Kurt to see.

"Hey!" he fumed. "You better give that medal back. You give that back, Angel."

"Kurt!" Regal cried suddenly. "Make the bloody tag!"

Kurt spun back in surprise and Regal slapped his hand. Angel just had to laugh. It wasn't exactly tough, but she was seriously messing with Kurt's mind.

"He'll think twice before he tries to screw with me again," she gloated as she returned to her corner. "Let's go, Benoit! Come on!"

Benoit had just raised his shoulder from the cover.

"Come on!" Angel cried. "Fire up, Benoit! Fire up!"

Benoit and Angle traded punches, then Angle whipped Benoit into the ropes. Kurt raised his leg for the knee to the abdomen, but Benoit simply grabbed it and rolled him up for a near fall. Kurt kicked out violently, then continued to sink his boot into Benoit. 

"Let him up, pussy!" Angel screamed.

Kurt paused to stare at her, then started kicking Benoit again. He grabbed Benoit's head, hooked his arm and sent him for an Angle Slam, but Benoit reversed into a crossbody and got a two-count before a very surprised Kurt Angle kicked out. 

"You're welcome!" Angel shouted at Benoit. "That was my idea!"

Benoit just scowled and violently chopped Kurt twice before Kurt tried another Angle Slam. Benoit countered, right into the DDT. Both men were down.

"Come on, Benoit!" Angel cried, tapping the mat with her right hand. "You can make it. Tag Rikishi!"

Benoit crawled over and did just that. Rikishi went nuts, cleaning house and plowing both Regal and Angle into the corner before slamming all his weight into them and then hitting Regal with the superkick. Kurt stopped him with a knee to the abdomen, then went for a powerbomb, but he was never going to lift Rikishi, who simply back body dropped him, then collapsed his legs and sat right on Angle's chest.

"Whoa," Angel laughed. "Maybe that guy _is_ cool. One! Two!"

But somehow, Kurt raised his shoulder. Rikishi frowned down at Kurt's near motionless body, then stomped over to tag in Benoit, who immediately climbed up top for the headbutt.

"No, Benoit!" Angel cried. "You didn't signal!"

Sure enough, by the time Benoit came down, Angle wasn't there. Benoit's head crashed into the mat and he was out. Angle took his opportunity, grabbing him and finally nailing the Angle Slam.

Benoit was out cold and Rikishi was busy chasing Regal around the ring. Kurt stood over Benoit, trying to decide whether to make the cover…or try something far more disgusting.

"Cover him, pussy!" Angel cried.

Kurt stepped over to Benoit, but instead of making the cover, he lifted the top of the Canadian's tights. 

"No!" Angel fumed. If Benoit came round to find the medal gone, he'd shit. "Come get mine, pussy! That way you don't have to give Benoit a hand job."

"Shut up, Angel!" Kurt snapped, making a face. He could have chased Angel, but Benoit was right there and he was unconscious. Turning away and cringing, Kurt reached down Benoit's tights and dug for gold. He withdrew his hand, medal safely inside and leaped to his feet, whooping with joy. He held the medal up for the crowd to see and then, unable to conceal his excitement, he kissed it. And then he remembered where it had been.

"Oh my God!" Angel cried. "That's not right."

But Kurt kept celebrating and signaling the crowd as Angel nimbly ran to his side. Just then, Benoit found his feet and launched himself onto Angle, bringing him down into the crossface. Kurt put his foot on the rope, but Angel was right there and removed it before the ref saw a thing.

"Tap, pussy, tap!" she sneered. "He'll break your damn neck and you know it."

Kurt tried desperately to struggle free, knowing that to tap would mean releasing the medal. But finally, he had no choice. The medal bounced onto the mat and then, so did Kurt's hand. Tap…tap…tap. Benoit held the crossface for a few more seconds as Angel simply reached in and grabbed the medal, then sprinted up the ramp. She hung Benoit's medal off her broken arm, then reached her good hand down and picked up the other before she held them both in the air.

"We've still got 'em, pussy!" she called to Kurt, who looked like he was about to cry. "Yesterday, today, Sunday. You're never getting them back. And why? Because you're a pussy. See you on Judgment Day, pussy!"

Just then, Benoit and Rikishi joined her.

"Give me that!" Benoit snapped, tearing the medal from her left arm.

"Okay, you don't need to snatch. Hey, nice job out there, Rikishi," she smiled, patting him on the back.

He turned to nod at her. "Thanks, girl."

Angel grinned. "Hey, you wanna see my gold medal? It's pretty sweet."

She held it just so, giving 6'3" Rikishi the perfect view of her cleavage. Suddenly, Benoit grabbed her arm and dragged her along. 

"Hey!" Angel cried. "I was just making friends."

Benoit just scowled at her and dragged her back to the locker room without another word.

Chris Jericho was just finishing his preparations.

"Wish me luck," he smiled confidently.

Angel smiled back. "You want a valet?"

Jericho thought about it. "Sure, Rogue. You can join me."

"No, she can't," Benoit snapped.

This was news to Angel, who spun accusingly "You said I can valet for whoever I want. Well, I choose him."

"Not this time," Benoit scowled. "You're still _my_ valet."

"But your match is over!"

Benoit simply shook his head. "Debrief."

"That's bullshit!" Angel screamed.

"Sit your ass down!" Benoit spat.

Angel scowled at him, then turned to Jericho. "So, it looks like I'm not going. Kick Edge's ass for me."

Jericho nodded. "You bet, baby."

Angel gave him a fond pat on the shoulder, then stormed over to the bench and threw herself down. She folded her arms and glared up at Benoit. "So, are you gonna take your briefs off, or what?"

Benoit scowled at her. "Don't be a child."

"Me? You're the one acting like a jealous five year old."

"Jealous," Benoit repeated furiously. "What do I have to be jealous about?"

"Because Jericho likes me more than he likes you."

"Grow up," Benoit spat.

"You can talk. Considering it's not even about that today. I just wanted to be there to get Edge and Christian back."

"And I told you to stay out of it."

"Screw you," Angel scowled, jumping to her feet.

"What are you doing?" Benoit demanded.

"Turning Jericho's match on," Angel snapped, violently flicking the button on the TV. "And if he needs my help I am going out there."

"No, you're not," Benoit glowered.

"Asshole," Angel spat, throwing her hands on her hips, her face the picture of indignation. "Why don't you try and stop me?"

* * * *

"No," Angel moaned as Jericho's head hit the deck. It definitely wasn't the first time. She started to get up, then peered over at Benoit.

"Don't even think about it."

"But he's getting the crap beaten out of him!" she protested.

"Then maybe he shouldn't be out there."

Angel sighed and sat back, tuning into the TV again. 

Edge grabbed Jericho and slammed his face into the turnbuckles, over and over and over.

Angel gave Benoit an expectant look.

"He can take care of himself," Benoit snapped.

Frustrated, she shook her head and turned back to the TV. Edge was taking the covering from the turnbuckle while Christian distracted the ref. He then picked up Jericho, ready to ram him into the exposed steel holding the ropes together, but Jericho reversed and rolled Edge up for the pin. He only got a two count, but that was enough for Benoit to start gloating.

"See? He can take care of himself."

Angel gave a reluctant nod. Perhaps Benoit was right. 

Edge was unimpressed and started pounding Jericho's head, over and over.

"Leave his head alone!" Angel cried helplessly before turning to Benoit. "He keeps hitting him in the head."

Benoit was unmoved. "It's good strategy. What have I told you about working the weak body part?"

"But it's not fair!" Angel protested.

"Maybe not, but it is legal," Benoit shrugged, matter-of-factly.

"God, I'm glad you're not my friend," Angel scowled, before watching the action again.

Edge had a sleeper hold around Jericho's head, not his neck, and he kept squeezing and squeezing and squeezing.

"That's it!" Angel cried. "I'm going out there."

She grabbed a chair and tucked it under her left arm, then headed for the door. Benoit rose to meet her, but she kept going, acutely aware of his position. When he tried to grab her, she simply reached out and sent him for an armdrag takeover. Then she ran.

* * * *

As Angel reached the stage, she heard Edge and Christian's song, but she didn't stop. This wasn't about who'd won - it was about Edge and Christian - what they'd done to Jericho, what they'd done to her. Jericho was motionless in the ring and they were signaling the crowd, the jackasses. Angel ran quietly - she'd be just out of view. Then she looped over behind them. Bam! Bam! A shot to each man's back, before she started running again. Not debilitating by any means, but just enough to make sure they didn't forget about her. Smiling as their shouts of protest filled her ears, she jumped up next to Jericho with the chair still in her hand.

"Are you okay, Jerky?"

"Arrgh, my head," he moaned, clutching it.

"Let me see," Angel told him. "I won't touch it, I swear." He moved his hands to grab at his ribs instead. "Just here on top?"  
"Yeah," he breathed through clenched teeth.

"It's not bleeding," she confirmed. "So that's good. Come on, let's get you to the trainer."

She helped him from the ring and up the ramp, taking it really slow.

"Rogue," Jericho murmured painfully, still grabbing at his head as she did her best to hold him up. "Judgment Day. Some sort of tag team tournament."

Angel bit her lip. He was barely lucid and she wasn't quite sure what he was asking her. "Tag Team Turmoil?" she guessed.

"Yeah, that. What is it?"

Angel sighed. He really should have known the answer to that. "It's like the Royal Rumble for tag teams. Two at a time until one remains. The winning team is the number one contender for the tag titles."

"And Edge and Christian are entered?"

Angel nodded. "Yeah, them, the Hardyz, the Dudleyz…"

"Well, now I'm entered too. Team Jericho."

"Jerky, you can't," Angel told him. "You need a partner and Benoit's got Angle in what's probably going to end up as best two of three _and_ a ladder match."

"I'm entering," Jericho insisted. "Tag Team Turmoil is Jericho!"

"Okay," Angel sighed. She'd talk him out of it, later, when he wasn't concussed. "First, let's get that head checked out. Waah!"

Benoit had grabbed her and slammed her against the wall in the hallway. "I told you not to go out there."

"But Jericho needed help…"

"I don't care. When I tell you to do something, you'll damn well do it."

"Alright," Angel sighed. "Just let me get him to the trainer. He's concussed. His head's really messed up."

"So take him," Benoit smirked.

Angel turned around. Sure enough, Jericho was gone. She immediately panicked. In his state, he was practically an escaped mental patient. 

"Jericho? Jericho? Where did he go?" she asked Benoit frantically.

He just raised his eyebrows at her. If he knew, he wasn't telling.

"Asshole, he's sick. He needs treatment."

But Benoit just didn't care. 

Angel let out an exasperated sigh and started searching.

"Jericho? Jericho?" she screamed. Then she turned the corner and nearly ran into him. "There you are!"

"Rogue," he muttered, looking like she'd just woken him and that he had a monster hangover. "Would you please shut the hell up?"  
Angel lowered her voice. "Sorry. I just got worried when I lost you."

"I was right here, talking to Vivian," Jericho explained as Lilian Garcia and her cameraman packed up and gave them a smile.

"Oh really?" Angel asked. That would have been a great interview. Half-demented raving Jericho. "What did you guys talk about?"  
"I told her how I'm gonna kick ass in Tag Team Turmoil."

Angel sighed. "You're really serious about that?"

"Of course I am. Edge and Christian, come Sunday, baby, it's go time. In fact, I'm gonna find Vinnie Mac right now. I'll be tag-teaming before you can even say 'turmoil'."

"Right," Angel murmured. "First, let's go see the trainer. And then maybe you can have a shower and put on some other clothes. Then we'll go find Mr. McMahon. Okay?"

"Rogue, don't look at me like that. We'll do this my way. My way or the highway."

Angel nodded patiently. "We'll go, I promise. But does your head still hurt?"

"Like someone slammed a chair into it," Jericho told her. 

"Well, how about we get that checked out first?"

Jericho frowned at her. "Then will you stop talking?"

Angel grinned. "I'll try."

"Great. Then let's go fix my head."

* * * *

Angel returned to the trainer's room with Jericho's bag on her shoulder and a piece of paper tucked under her arm. She dumped the bag and took a seat next to Jericho, who was lying on the examination bench with his eyes closed.

"How you feeling, Jerky?" she asked quietly.

Jericho's eye blinked open. "I feel like my head exploded."

"So, better, then?" Angel joked.

He broke into a little smile. "At least I'll sleep well tonight."

"Well, I got you a present," Angel told him, opening out the paper.

"What's that?" Jericho frowned.

"The current roster," Angel explained. "We're gonna get you a tag partner."

"That's really sweet of you, Rogue, but you don't need to do that."

"Someone does. Benoit's busy and you can't do it alone. Who's the Brooklyn Brawler? Is he any good?"

"That guy still wrestles?" Jericho frowned. 

"This says he does. Okay, so a lot of people are busy, but let's see here…Eddie Guerrero?"

"You must be kidding!" Jericho cried.

"Okay, okay, I'll try a little harder. Billy Gunn?"

"Rogue, if that's how you try, just stop trying."

"I can't, Jerky. I've got to help you choose a partner."

"I've already chosen," Jericho informed her.

"You have? Who? Steve Blackman? He's good."

"No, Rogue," Jericho sighed. "You."

"Me?" Angel squealed.

"That's right," Jericho went on. "I choose you, Pikachu."

"But…but…why?" Angel stammered.

"Like you said, Benoit's busy. So I thought I'd get the next best thing."

"Okay," Angel said slowly. Jericho really was concussed. "Has it escaped your attention that I'm a girl?"

"No, baby. Believe me, it hasn't."

"But you want me to be your partner anyway?"

"Baby," Jericho sighed. "This morning, you nearly beat Benoit. If you can beat him, you can beat anyone. So, how about it? Are you in?"

'He's delirious,' Angel thought. Tomorrow, he'll wake up and go, "What was I thinking?"'

"Um, Jerky?" she said out loud. "Broken arm?"  
Jericho just formed a smile. "Hands free attacks. You can do 'em. Come on, Rogue. You know you're ready for this. Jump off the cliff with me, baby."

Angel stared at him for a while. She wanted to, oh, how she wanted to, even if only so she could get her hands on Edge and Christian. But there was still one problem. 

"I…I can't."

"Now what?" Jericho frowned.

"I can't fight…even if I wanted to. I'm not contracted. They won't let me."

"Well, that's easy fixed," Jericho told her. "We go see Vinnie Mac and get him to sign you."

"Like it's that easy, deadhead," Angel muttered.

"It is easy, baby. All I've gotta do is go see Vance and tell him I want to enter myself and a mystery partner in Tag Team Turmoil. And he'll be only too eager, because he'll know that all the best wrestlers already have matches at Judgment Day. And then, once we have that in writing, I'll tell him I've already chosen my partner. And he'll ask who and I'll tell him I want you. He'll have no choice. You're in, baby. Trust me."

Angel frowned again, but her insides were jumping all over the place. "You're sure you wanna do this?"  
"Definitely. It's perfect. I wanna beat the living hell out of Edge and Christian, you wanna beat the living hell out of Edge and Christian. In fact, let's go right now, before you change your mind."

"I won't change my mind," Angel assured him. "But I'm worried about you. Are you really, really sure? I mean, I wouldn't want to let you down."

"Baby, I trust you," Jericho said softly. "Maybe you should trust me, eh?"

Angel slowly broke into a smile. So maybe Jericho was concussed. Here was her big chance and, dammit, she was going to take it.

"Okay, Jerky. Let's go get this signed."

* * * *

Jericho threw the door open. "Hey boss!"

Vince jumped off the couch. "Jericho!" he cried, sounding totally constipated. 

Jericho grinned and grabbed Angel. "Have you met my friend? Vance McMahon, Rogue. Rogue, Vinnie Mac."

"That's Mr. McMahon to you," Vince scowled. "And yes, we've met."

But Jericho didn't really hear him. "Okay, boss. Tag Team Turmoil. I want to enter a team."

"Well, you know what? After hearing you with Lilian Garcia, I figured that you might, so I took the liberty of entering your team. All you have to do is sign the release."

Jericho picked up the contract and read it slowly. "Pen?"

Vince handed him the most expensive-looking pen Angel had ever seen.

"Signed, sealed and delivered," Jericho grinned, quickly folding the contract into an airplane and flying it at Vince's head. He grabbed it angrily and filed it away in his briefcase.

"Is there anything else?" he asked irritably.

Jericho grinned and gave a nod. "Don't you wanna know the identity of my mystery partner?"

Vince frowned thoughtfully. "Actually, yes, I think I would. You do know that Chris Benoit has a best two of three falls matchup with Kurt Angle and will be unable to partner you?"  
"Yeah, I know. That's a shame, isn't it?" Jericho muttered. "But it does mean I'm free to choose whoever I want to be my partner, right?"

Vince nodded. "If they agree, yes."

Jericho's eyebrows shot up. "Anyone at all?"

"Yes, Jericho. I'm sure Essa Rios would be delighted."

"I don't want Essa Rios," Jericho informed him. "I want Rogue here. She'll be my partner."

Vince's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "Is this some kind of joke? We know how fond you are of jokes."

"That's why I love _you_ so much, boss. But no, this is no joke. Come Sunday, Rogue and I will win Tag Team Turmoil."

"But, she's not rostered!" Vince cried.

"Yeah, see, that's where you come into it," Jericho told him. "You'll need to sign her so she can compete with me. You said I can choose whoever I wanted and she's my choice. So, bring it on, boss. Sign her up."

"Let me get this perfectly clear," Vince frowned. "You want me to sign this…this girl to a match in which she will face the APA, the Dudley Boyz, X-Factor…"

"No," Jericho cut him off. "I want you to sign her so she can take on Edge and Christian. And she wants it too, right, baby?"

"Yeah," Angel nodded rapidly.

Vince stared at her, as if noticing her for the first time. 

"Angel Torres," he mused. "So, you wanna be a wrestler?"

Angel nodded again. "Yes, sir."

"And you want to take on men?"  
"If I need to, yes."

"Well, that is interesting," Vince told her. "Who the hell do you think you are? Chyna?"  
"No." Angel put her hands on her hips. "I'm Angel Torres."

Vince gave a little smile and nodded. "Good answer. Do you have any idea what could happen to you if I include you in this match?"

"Nothing that hasn't happened to me before," Angel replied, glancing meaningfully at her cast.

"You're injured," Vince frowned.

"It's nothing," Angel dismissed it.

"It doesn't look like nothing. It looks like a broken arm."

Angel shook her head. "It doesn't stop me."

"Well," Vince mused, somewhat taken aback. "You're determined, I'll give you that. So, I'll tell you what I'll do. Against my better judgement, I will allow you to be Chris Jericho's partner for Tag Team Turmoil. For this, you will sign a contract in the form of a release and you will be paid…"

"The money doesn't bother me," Angel cut in. 

"I have to pay you if you work for me. This release relinquishes responsibility of the WWF should you become injured in the match. You will be entitled to the company's insurance policy, but you will not be able to take further legal action. Do you understand?"

Angel nodded.

"Good. Here is the release form." He held it out and she handed it directly to Jericho. "Should the two of you win Tag Team Turmoil, I will arrange another release for your title shot next Monday night on Raw. Should you win that match, I will continue to sign you match by match until which time you lose the titles. Then, I feel, we will be in the position to discuss your future employment with this company in the form of a long-term contract. Does that sound fair?"

"Yes, sir. Very fair."

Suddenly, Jericho piped up. "Hey, this says nothing about Tag Team Turmoil."

"No," Vince confirmed. "It's a standard one match release, the same form every new talent signs when they first trial with us. Your release mentions Tag Team Turmoil, binding you and the partner of your choice, young Angel here, to the match. Provided you come through with the opportunity and she signs the one match release, come Sunday, Angel will make her in-ring WWF debut."

Angel's eyes widened and she spun to Jericho excitedly. "Should I sign it?"

"If you want to fight, yes," Jericho confirmed.

Angel snatched the paper from him, turned him around and leaned it on his back as she signed. Then she handed it back to Vince, unable to hide her grin.

Vince nodded at the signature, then safely deposited the contract in his briefcase. He held out his hand, a broad but decidedly evil grin on his face. 

"Congratulations, Angel Torres. You are now a wrestler."


	55. Time For Revenge

Title: Time For Revenge

Warnings: Language, violence, adult themes

Summary: All of Angel's training has led up to this moment. Now's her chance to show the world (but especially Edge and Christian) what she's got.

A/N: Arrgh, last 'R' chapter! This is for everyone, because you guys are totally the best!!! On a side note, if you're Australian or if you're a member of a wrestling mailing list/club, please send me an email at lyndelle@chariot.net.au The WWE has decided it's a good idea to not give us more SmackDown and I'm prepared to fight to change their minds. Please help me! Thanks and enjoy this chapter ;-)

JUDGMENT DAY, MAY 20TH

"Enough suplexes!" Angel cried. "Let's scratch match."

Benoit released the waistlock. "Why?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe you have a match tonight you should prepare for and taking me on is going to do you a hell of a lot more good than suplex after frigging suplex."

Benoit raised his eyebrows. "That's what _you_ think."

Angel sighed. "Just bring it on, jackass. What's the matter? You afraid of a little girl?"

Benoit scowled, then ran at her. She raised her knee and slammed it into his abdomen, then went for momentum off the ropes.

"Hold it! You're not starting 'til I get there."

Benoit raised his head. "Y2J. What the hell are you doing?"  
Angel broke into a grin, then climbed out of the ring and threw her arms around him. "Hiya, Jerky."

Jericho held her close and whispered in her ear. "Have you told him?"

"You know, I thought I'd let it be a surprise. He already has Kurt to worry about."

"Coward," Jericho accused.

"Screw you," Angel scowled, before they broke apart and grinned at each other.

"Bitch! Get your ass back in the ring. I don't have time for this."

Angel sighed but climbed back in, not knowing that Jericho was following her.

"Jericho, I asked what the hell you're doing," Benoit snapped.

"I'm thinking triple threat," Jericho replied, pacing around. "Are the two of you up for it?"  
Angel grinned. "Anything you can dish out, buddy."  
Jericho nodded, then turned to Benoit. "You, junior? It'll be a real challenge before you meet Kirk tonight."

Benoit nodded. "Okay. Triple threat."

"Alright," Angel grinned. "You two start off. I'll jump in to break the cover." She climbed from the ring and stood in the corner. "Come on, Jericho!"

Benoit and Jericho circled each other, then locked up. Benoit forced Jericho into the corner, but was stopped with a knife-edge chop. He returned in kind, but then Jericho ducked it and pushed Benoit away, before hitting him with a spinning heel kick. Benoit hit the deck, then scrambled to his feet, just in time to hear the distinct slapping of a tag being made. He spun quickly, straight into a hard right from the little bitch. He felt his legs falling out from under him and then she grabbed him and brought him down for a DDT. Next, she rolled him over and made the cover, but he kicked out quickly. She grabbed him, sent him for a bulldog and again made the cover. He kicked out and, frustrated, she scooped him up, whipped him into the corner, then tagged in Jericho.

"Poetry In Motion," Angel whispered.

Jericho nodded, ran towards Benoit, then dropped to his hands and knees. Angel springboarded off his back, then slammed her legs into Benoit's face. He fell forward, but Angel and Jericho carried him over in a double hiptoss. Angel grinned, then climbed out to let Jericho take over.

Jericho hit the suplex, then went for the lionsault. He started to make the cover, then changed his mind and turned to the corner. "Rogue?"

She was eagerly hanging over the ropes, beckoning for the tag. Jericho leaped over and let her in so she immediately climbed up top.

"Swanton Bomb!" she screamed and then she took off. Her back hit Benoit; she hooked his legs and one…two…

Bam! Benoit threw her aside.

"Just stay down already!" she cried, leaping up and going for momentum off the ropes. She flew and took him down with a headlock, which also winded her. 

"Come on, Rogue," Jericho called. "Come on." 

Her lungs heaving, she crawled towards the sound of his voice.

"That's it, baby. You're almost there."

Suddenly, Benoit leaped onto her back ad locked on the crossface.

"Argh!" she cried out as panicked thoughts filled her mind. 'Where's the rope? Where's the rope?'

She frantically reached for it with her right hand and grabbed…rope! She was on the rope!

"Let her go, Benoit, she's got the rope."

Benoit scowled up at Jericho and reluctantly released the hold. Angel quickly slipped from his grasp and flew through the air, her hand crashing against Jericho's. 

Y2J was quickly in the mix, sending Benoit for the Irish whip, then scoring the flying clothesline. He then bundled Benoit up in a neutral corner as Angel caught her breath, then went up top again.

"Jerky! Whip him my way!"

A whip, a fly, a hurricanrana. Benoit was down and Angel quickly vacated the ring as Jericho grabbed his legs, then turned him over into the Walls Of Jericho. Benoit tried to struggle to the ropes, but Jericho simply dragged him back again. Tap…tap…tap. The match was over. Jericho let go of Benoit as Angel climbed into the ring and leaped into his arms.

"We did it! We did it!" she cried excitedly.

"We sure did, baby," Jericho enthused.

Benoit scrambled to his haunches.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded breathlessly.

Jericho grinned. "A challenge, junior. Good preparation for your match."

"How will that help me?" Benoit snapped. "I didn't get a single shot in."

"Calm down, junior. You got the crossface."

Benoit just glowered at him. "It was supposed to be a triple threat."

"Oh well," Jericho shrugged. "That happens sometimes. Besides, I think me and Rogue make a pretty great team, don't you?"  
Benoit scowled, shifting his gaze to Angel. "Bitch, we're leaving."

Angel sighed and gave Jericho a meek smile. "Thanks for this. I'll see you tonight."

"You bet, baby." He gripped her hand fondly, but just then, Benoit grabbed her leg and pulled her from the ring. He started to put her over his shoulder, but she struggled to her feet.

"Don't touch me, jackass. Just 'cause Jericho said me and him make a great team, you don't have to get shitty about it."

"Shut up," Benoit snapped. He was feeling very, very uneasy. He always did on Pay Per View day. But today was different. Today Jericho and the bitch had beaten him. Sure, it had required both of them, but he'd been right when he'd said he hadn't gotten a shot in. And that didn't bode well for tonight. Kurt's medals were on the line. He'd cheat, of course he would. He'd try to fool Benoit, just like Jericho and the bitch with their triple threat-cum-handicap match. If Benoit fell for Kurt's tricks, he could lose.

"Well, that's not gonna happen, bitch," he muttered. "That's not gonna happen."

Angel stopped and gave him an indignant look. "You're a freak," she snapped. And then she kept on walking.

* * * *

Angel hurried down the hall. As usual, she'd given Benoit the slip during his pre-match interview. Today he was talking to Lilian Garcia, so he probably wouldn't notice she was gone until it was over. She was in a hurry to get back to the locker room, so she and Jericho could talk strategy without Benoit around. She knew he'd find out that they were tagging, eventually, but she was quite content to put off dealing with his shit for as long as was humanly possible. 

As she walked, she flexed her newly movable left hand. After training, Jericho had taken her to a local hospital to have her cast removed. They hadn't wanted to do it - she'd only had it on for three weeks - even elite athletes needed four to five. But she'd been stubborn about it, of course, and told them that if they didn't remove it, she'd hack it off herself with a pair of scissors and asked them which would damage it more. So they cut it off, she thanked them and then distinctly heard someone mutter the words "crazy wrestlers" as she left, a free woman.

Her arm was still heavily bandaged, but she could now move her fingers and that was enough. She could fight. 

"Hey! Wait, wait, wait. Whoa! Girl with short hair. Hold up! I wanna talk to you."

Angel didn't recognize the voice so she stopped and turned back, smug smirk on her face. "So, talk already."

She didn't even back off when she saw who she was talking to. X-Pac, flanked on either side by his two bitches, Justin Credible and Albert.

"I've seen you round," X-Pac told her. "You're my kind of woman."

"Really?" Angel asked, eyebrows raised, before she cocked her head towards Justin. "I thought he was."

"What?" X-Pac screamed as Justin prepared to rush her.

"It's just what I heard," Angel went on coolly as X-Pac grabbed Justin and dragged him back.

"From who?" X-Pac demanded. "Jericho? 'Cause, you know, he'd know all about liking other men. What the hell have he and Benoit got going?"

Angel shrugged. "It's pretty intense, that's for sure. Benoit…Jericho…me."

X-Pac actually gulped. "You're kidding me. You're actually doing those two losers?"

Angel gave him a sexy grin. "I do what…and who…I wanna do."

X-Pac nodded, clearly impressed. "You know, you remind me of this chick I was nailing for a while. Tori. She didn't take shit from no one. And you know how I got her? I stole her away from Kane. And then I kicked his ass. So, how about it?"  
Angel tried not to give an incredulous frown. What a loser! 

"I don't know," she said softly. "I mean, you're cute and obviously a great wrestler if you can beat Kane. And I might be interested…" She gave a reluctant frown. "But I don't know…facial hair really turns me off. Seriously. There's nothing I hate more than a guy who's never learned how to shave. But anyway, I guess I'll see you around."

She turned and walked away, knowing they were still staring at her. That had gone well. X-Pac hitting on her - who'd have thought it? It'd sure make things interesting if she and Jericho had to face the X-Factor in their match.

She pushed open the door to the locker room and stepped quickly inside.

Jericho looked up. "Hey Rogue. Been expecting you."

"Yeah, I would have been here sooner," Angel apologized. "Only I was busy being hit on by a greasy-haired ferret and his two bald friends."

"You're kidding!" Jericho cried. "X-Crap wants a piece of you?"

Angel frowned. "What, is that so strange that he might wanna hit on me? 'Cause it happened, Jerky."

"Yeah, I believe you," Jericho replied. "I just wanna know what his problem is. You're way out of his league."

"Oh," Angel murmured, before breaking into a grin. "Well, thank you."

Jericho gave a cool nod. "You're welcome, Rogue."

Angel suddenly found herself staring into his eyes. They were beautiful, so very blue and filled with light whenever he smiled, like he was doing now.

"So yeah," she murmured, before snapping out of it. "We should talk strategy."

Jericho nodded. "Strategy's simple. We beat the hell out of Edge and Christian."

"Yeah, definitely, but do we know how we're gonna do that?"

"Just like this morning. We isolate them, and then we destroy them."

Angel nodded. "Okay, but we don't even know what number team we are."

"Yeah, we do," Jericho insisted. "We're number six. A messenger came by just before to let us know."

"Oh, okay," Angel mused. "But we don't know what number Edge and Christian are."

"Number seven," Jericho replied.

"They are? How do you know that?"  
"I heard them talking. 'You know what, Christian? This is so totally an omen, dude. Number seven? And us, the E to the C, we're like the seven time tag tam champs'."

Angel grinned at his dead-on impression. "Okay, they're seven, we're six. That means we only have to beat one team before we meet them. But we don't know which team. So, let's talk strengths and weaknesses."

"Whoa, baby. You really are Benoit's student."

Angel ignored this comment. "I've been watching tapes all weekend and I think I've got every team figured out. Take the APA. Their strength is their strength, their weakness is speed. We can also beat them in the air. I'm talking 'ranas, missile dropkicks, moonsaults. I think you get me."

"Yeah, I get you," Jericho said thoughtfully. "But I don't care about the Acolytes. What matters is revenge, on Edge and Christian."

At that moment, Benoit appeared. "Jericho, have you seen…" His eyes fell on Angel and he cut off with a scowl. 

She pretended like he wasn't even there. "I agree, but there are five teams to be beaten before Edge and Christian even come out. So, let's discuss how that's gonna happen."

"Okay," Jericho agreed. "Go on."

"Next, the Radicalz. Like this jackass, they're great technically, but they're lacking in imagination, brawling ability and aerial skills. Is that a fair assessment?" she asked Benoit, who was pacing the room.

He raised his eyebrows, then nodded.

"Moving on," Angel said. "The Hardyz. I know them well. High on risk, plenty of speed and imagination. But they're not great wrestlers. They're like…the anti-Radicalz. The Dudleyz are kind of like the Acolytes. They're strong, they're slow. If we run them off their feet, they're sunk…"

Suddenly, Benoit stopped pacing. "We?" he cried incredulously. "Y2J…you chose…the _bitch_ as your tag partner?"

Jericho nodded slowly. "Yeah, junior. I did."

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?"

"Look, Benoit," Jericho told him. "I'm not going to take shit from you about this. I know what I'm doing."

"No, you don't. She's a girl!"

"I know that."

"She can't wrestle," Benoit seethed. "She's not even contracted."

"McMahon signed her for this match," Jericho informed him. "Come on, Benoit. We can do this. We kicked your ass this morning."

"Wrong!" Benoit snapped. "_You_ kicked my ass. The bitch is a liability. She'll destroy both of you."

"You see, I don't think so," Jericho shot back. "I think she's a great fighter and we make a great team. I guess we'll just have to wait and see, eh?"

"No," Benoit replied emphatically. "We won't, because she's not going out there."

"Yes, I am," Angel insisted.

"Stay out of this!" Benoit screamed, before turning back to Jericho. "Why her? There are other people around here."

"Not as good as her," Jericho shrugged.

"Oh no? Put her in the ring with anyone…Billy Gunn, Grandmaster Sexay, anyone. The two of them, one on one. Who's gonna win, Jericho? Not her."

"Not in one on one, maybe," Jericho conceded. "But she and I are a team. Right, Rogue? We look out for each other. When we get together in the ring, like this morning, it's tremendous, it's synergistic. We have a chemistry."

"Bullshit!" Benoit snapped. "So you wanna screw each other, I don't care. Just keep it out of the damn ring."

With that, he stormed out of the locker room and slammed the door.

Angel and Jericho stared at it, then at each other. For a moment, the mood was tense. Then Angel spoke.

"So, anyway, let's move onto X-Factor."

Jericho relaxed and smiled at her as she went on.

"Obviously, Albert's a problem. But, to tell you the truth, we can't waste time worrying about him. We need to beat X-Pac and Justin. Now, you know X-Pac a lot better than I do, but I really think this tag team is a lot like Edge and Christian. They're all jackasses, they all have technical and aerial skills, but they're all stupid as shit. Beat them with a fast break, then keep on surprising them. They won't know what to do with themselves."

Jericho nodded slowly. "I'm impressed, Rogue. You've really looked into this."

"Well, I had to," Angel grinned. "We've gotta win. Now we've done strengths and weaknesses, we've gotta decide who we want to face. Like, say D-Von Dudley's starting off. Who'll take him on, you or me? Now, what I think is, if you're okay with it, I'll take on the weaker team member and you take the strongest."

Jericho nodded. "Okay, I'm cool with that. So, who are the weak links?"

"I'm just getting to that," Angel smiled. "Let's start with Edge and Christian. Christian's smaller, he's weaker. I honestly think I could beat him."

"I think you can too," Jericho agreed. "So, he's yours."

"Thanks," Angel grinned. "But that's not to say if you're in with Edge and you need the tag I won't be there for you."

"You bet, baby," Jericho enthused. "So, who next?"

"The Dudleyz. Buh Buh is bigger and stronger, but he's also slower than a damn tortoise. So long as he can't catch me, I'll wear him down on fitness. Are you cool with battling D-Von?"

"You actually want to take on Buh Buh Ray Dudley?" Jericho asked skeptically. "You're brave."

Angel shrugged. "I've thought all this through carefully. Now, with the APA, Faarooq is weaker, but…"

"But?" Jericho echoed.

"Well," Angel grinned. "Like I told you, Bradshaw wants to see me naked, so here's what I'm gonna do. When I dress for the match later, I'm gonna skip the bra. Once Bradshaw gets a load of these puppies bouncing around, even under my shirt, he's not gonna know what to do with himself."

Jericho let out a surprised laugh. "Okay, baby. What happens if he gets confused and starts thinking it's a bra and panties match? You'll be screwed then."

"Not so," Angel argued. "If we get to the rolling on the mat part, I'll just put him in a figure four leg lock. Then he'll tap, faster than you can say 'down, boy!'"

Jericho laughed again. "You're a smart one."

"Nah," Angel grinned back. "Just a slut."

"You're not a slut," Jericho replied. "Stephanie's a slut. Trish is a slut. You're different. You're special."

Angel stared at him, surprised. "Thanks."

"No problem, baby," Jericho grinned. "So, who's next. Who else can we slut it up for?"

Angel slowly broke into a smirk. "X-Factor. X-Pac wants me. I don't know why, but I intend to use it to my advantage. Our advantage. Unless you'd rather face him. Justin Credible is the crappier of the two."

"No, baby. The greasebag's all yours."

"Fantastic," Angel grinned. "We are going to rock out, big time. In Radicalz I want Dean Malenko. I've beaten him before, I'll beat him again."

"You bet," Jericho agreed. "So that leaves us…one team to go."

Suddenly Angel went pale and stared desperately at Jericho. "The Hardy Boyz."

"That's right," Jericho nodded. "That won't be easy for either of us."

Angel shook her head. "No, it'll be fine. You take Matt, I'll take Jeff."

"Are you sure?' Jericho frowned.

"Yeah," Angel nodded. "I've trained with him. I know him like the back of my hand. He might think he knows me, but I'm not the same wrestler I was back then. Now, I'm a shooter. All I have to do is ground him, and then I'll beat him with submission. He can't handle submission."

"You've really got that one worked out, Jericho said admiringly. "But are you really sure you wanna fight Jeff?"

"Yep. I don't know if I could beat Matt, but I can beat Jeff. I know I can. All you have to do is let me."

Jericho stared at her for some time before he answered, his voice low and soft. "Alright, baby. If you want Jeff, you can have Jeff."

"Thanks!" Angel cried, leaping over and throwing her arms around him. "Oh, this is going to be so great, Jerky. All we have to do is beat one team and then we'll finally get our revenge on Edge and Christian. We're gonna beat their asses, Jerky. They're gonna run home crying!"

Jericho grinned and held her tight. "You bet, baby. You bet."

* * * *

Benoit marched furiously down the hallway. He should have been in the locker room, preparing for his match - getting dressed, getting mentally ready. But right now he couldn't go in there. Not when he wanted to kick Jericho's ass. 

How could Jericho be so damn stupid? How could he fall for the whore's shit, like he couldn't see through what she was painting? He'd been there for all her crap, with Regal and Angle and Edge and Christian. There was no way anyone changed that much that fast. But Jericho was the eternal optimist. What the hell was the matter with him? She'd ruin Jericho's match, for sure. And they'd both get hurt - her because she was weak and pathetic, him because he'd do the chivalrous thing and try and rescue her. And then Benoit would have to take revenge for the damn whore. Again. He was sick of it. For the first time he began to wonder whether things would be easier if he just let her go. But he shut that thought out of his mind. The only way he'd let her go was if he got what he wanted from her - pure, unadulterated fear, and even then only once he'd taught her a physical lesson that would even top her Edge and Christian experience. Because they'd gone about it all wrong. When Benoit attacked her, he'd take it slowly, limb by limb, bone by bone, body part by body part. He'd tear the damn bitch apart! But while he did that, he'd leave her head alone. She'd be conscious for it all. She'd see him destroy her! The thought of it actually brought a smile to his face…but then it faded. Jericho would never let him do that. It would probably cause their feud to resume; the feud that had fed the WWF vultures countless top-quality Pay Per View encounters, not to mention the freebies. Right now, Jericho was far more useful as a friend than he'd ever been as an enemy. Benoit couldn't afford to screw that up. Maybe the bitch was disposable, but Jericho wasn't. And so the bitch would stay, at least for now, no matter how much she pissed Benoit off.

Suddenly, up ahead, he saw two men standing next to a cage and talking. He let out a low growl and grabbed the nearest person, slamming their head into the cage. Then he grabbed the other, picked him up and powerslammed him down onto the hard ground. Finally, he continued his walk.

"Hey Benoit, we're totally getting you back!" Christian called after him.

Benoit stopped and turned around. "I can't wait. Boys." Then he gave them his trademark smirk and headed off again. That had felt good. Maybe he could go get ready now. If Jericho wanted the girl, that was his damn problem. Benoit would just have to keep trying to talk him out of it.

* * * *

Angel stood next to Benoit as they listened to Kurt insult the crowd and his opponent. Benoit had been silent since he'd returned to the locker room. Strangely silent, even for him. And he'd pretty much ignored both her and Jericho…not that that was particularly strange. Then suddenly she knew what was wrong. Benoit wasn't any different to normal. He was quiet because he was in the zone, exactly as he was before every big match. It was the match itself that was different. This was the first Pay Per View match since this whole mess had begun back in February, when she wasn't intent on screwing with Benoit's mind. The first time she would cheer on Benoit…and actually mean it. The first time she'd ignore his protests and cheat so he'd win, no matter what it took. All because she hated Kurt Angle so much. She and Benoit had the gold medals and after tonight, they'd still have them, Angel was damn sure. He who has the gold has the power. The power to reduce Kurt Angle to a quivering, touchy, weeping mess. He deserved to be like that forever and, if Angel could help it, he would be.

Suddenly, Benoit started walking and she almost lost him, but hurried to catch up. 'Shooter' was playing and in a minute, the match would begin. Angel walked with Benoit to the ring as the crowd roared. She soaked in the atmosphere. Pay Per Views were pretty cool. Benoit climbed into the ring, then reached down the front of his tights, pulled out the medal and handed it to the referee. Angel solemnly plunged her hand down her top and produced her own medal. But, just as the referee reached out to take it from her, Kurt attacked Benoit.

"Ref, ref, look! He's mugging him!" Angel cried as Kurt forced Benoit into the corner and started kicking him. The ref was soon on the case so Kurt whipped Benoit into the diagonal corner, then grabbed him from behind and formed the waistlock. Bam! Kurt hit the German suplex and Angel's hands flew to her mouth. If Kurt was going for a trio here, Benoit would not be a happy boy. Bam! German number two. 

"Come on, Benoit!" Angel screamed. "Hit him, elbow him! Come on!"

Bam! Third German. Benoit was flat on his back, but Kurt wasn't done yet. Staring down at Angel, he violently spread his arms, then went up top. 

"Not on your life, buddy," Angel murmured, before she screamed out to Benoit. "Benoit! He's going for headbutt! Three, two, one, move!"

On cue, Benoit rolled towards Angel and when Kurt hit the deck, he simply scooped him up and sent him for his very own Angle Slam. As he made the cover, he sneered down at Kurt.

"I've told you before not to steal my moves, bitch," he muttered as the ref made the count.

One...two…three. First fall over. Time for submissions.

"Finish him off, Benoit!" Angel cried. 

Benoit ran quickly back to Kurt and immediately locked on the crossface.

"Tap, pussy!" Angel screamed, but she spotted Kurt going for the rope.

She had to stop him. She raced around the ring, but by the time she reached him, he'd reached the rope.

"Dammit," she scowled, but had to move as Kurt crawled her way, out of the ring.

"Get back in the corner, bitch!" Benoit snapped as he climbed down after Kurt.

But Angel simply fell into step behind him as he slammed Kurt into the barrier, then hit him with a knife-edge. This set off the crowd.

"Whoo!" they all cried, but it seemed someone was a little slow, for as Benoit grabbed Kurt and slammed his head into the steel steps, he finally called out 'whoo', three times in a row. Angel turned and glared in the direction of the annoying sound, but she couldn't figure out quite who it was coming from. That was a good thing too, because she was in an ass-kicking mood. Then, as Benoit picked Kurt up and threw him into the steps again, Angel realized that annoying guy wasn't about to stop saying 'whoo' any time soon.

"Get in the corner!" Benoit cried, spotting her, but she simply gave him the finger, then stepped out the way as he again grabbed Kurt, dragged him to the next corner and bounced his head off the ringpost. Benoit then hit another knife-edge and tried for another, but Kurt ducked it, grabbed him and slammed his genitals right into the ringpost. 

"Oh!" Angel cried, running in before Kurt even saw her, grabbing him and slamming him down in a DDT. "That wasn't very nice." She bounced to her feet and started kicking him, until she heard a voice.

"Hey! Get back in your corner!"

But it wasn't Benoit. It was the ref. She simply raised her hands and walked away. 

Kurt began to follow her lead, sinking his boot into Benoit. He picked him up by the head and bounced it off both announce desks, three times in total. 

"Get back in the ring!" the ref cried.

Kurt picked up Benoit as if he was going to do just that, so the ref climbed back in. This was the opportunity Angel had been waiting for. While the ref had his back turned, she nailed a standing dropkick to Kurt's knee and knocked him right over. Then she ran.

"Hey! I saw that! Don't make me DQ your guy!"

Angel frowned up at him. This ref was sharp! She'd have to watch herself if this match was going to end in two falls.

She turned around and noticed that Kurt and Benoit were back in the ring. After a few sharp boots to the body, Kurt tried to apply the ankle lock, but Benoit quickly crawled away and reached the ropes.

"Yeah!" Angel cried, racing over thee. "Way to go!"

But Kurt just picked him up and whipped him into the corner, then ran at him. Benoit got his feet up and kicked out, sending Kurt flying. Benoit then ran at Kurt, who just brought him down in a drop toe hold, then again tried for the ankle lock, but Benoit rolled out and countered into an ankle lock of his own. Kurt wriggled desperately and finally kicked Benoit away before scrambling over him, jostling for position. Benoit hooked his arm and applied the crossface. Luckily for Kurt, the rope was nearby and he grabbed it quickly. But Angel was right there and she violently unhooked his fingers, throwing his hand off the ropes.

"Hey!" cried a voice. "Last warning, valet. Stay out of it!"

Angel glared up at him. This ref sure wasn't making things easy. Especially when Kurt was rolling out of the ring, right towards her and she couldn't even attack him because the damn ref was watching. Benoit jumped down after Kurt and shot her a dark glare. 

"Alright," she sighed. "I'll stay out of it. I was just trying to help."

Pouting slightly, she turned the other way and started walking around the ring. When she got to the other side, she spotted Kurt and Benoit, headed right for her. Benoit was in control and Angel formed a smirk as, behind her, the 'whoo' guy kept shouting 'whoo'.

"Come on, Benoit!" she cried. "Kill him!"

Just then, from deep inside her, she heard Kurt speaking.

"Come on, Angel. You can trust me. I'll get you there."

And then he was holding her back as fists and trashcan lids and chairs flew. Every time they got in a good shot, he'd shout 'whoo!' right in her ear. 'Whoo! Whoo! Whoo!' She scrunched her eyes closed but she couldn't lose the sounds of crunching metal, flesh on flesh, Kurt's voice…'Whoo! Whoo! Whoo!'

"Shut up, Kurt!" Angel screamed, whipping around and punching him right in the face. Her eyes flew open.

"Oh my God," she gasped. "I just decked a spectator." Sure enough, the 'whoo' guy was down.

"That's it!" screamed the ref. "You're out of here, valet! You're gone!"

Still dazed, Angel spun to face him. "What?"  
"You're banned from ringside! Get moving or I will DQ Benoit. Go!"

"But…you can't do that!" Angel stammered.

"I said, you're gone!" the ref shouted. "One…two…"

"Okay!" Angel cried. "I'm going."

She had no choice but to turn around and trudge up the ramp, alone. So much for helping Benoit. If he wanted the win, he was going to have to do it by himself. 

When she reached the backstage area, she spotted a few tech guys, who were scrutinizing the action on a TV monitor.

"Move!" she snapped, pushing her way into a position where she could see.

She watched carefully, a feeling of helplessness taking over her whole body as she murmured what she thought Benoit should try, what counters he should use. 

The second fall seemed to go forever. Benoit impressed with a figure four leg lock, a sharpshooter and a modified version of the Walls of Jericho, but when Kurt hit the Angle slam into the ankle lock, he had nothing left. He tapped.

Angel let out a deep sigh.

"Okay, Benoit," she murmured. "Let's finish this thing."

She pushed her way out of the viewing circle and started running back towards the ring. She knew where to attack. Always work on the one weak body part and Kurt's left knee was screwed.

The hook holding the medals was raised to the roof as Angle looked on, telling the ref to take care of his medals. Angel dove into the ring, stick in hand, and slammed it across the backs of Kurt's knees. He immediately fell to the ground so she simply reached forward and grabbed his leg, ready to bend it over the rope.

Suddenly, someone caught her from behind and she spun defensively. 

"I thought I kicked you out!"

Angel threw her hands onto her hips and stared the ref down. She was taller than him and she'd be willing to lay bets that she was stronger, too.

"This is a ladder match. It's no DQ. You can't stop me."

"The hell I can't!" the ref snapped. "I banned you from ringside."

"Yes, but this is no DQ," Angel repeated. "So I'm back."

The ref just glared at her. She was right. She'd beaten him. But there was one person she couldn't beat.

"Bitch! Get in the corner!"

Angel sighed and climbed out of the ring. Man, Benoit was an asshole. 

Kurt and Benoit battled on the outside, until Kurt reversed a whip and sent Benoit flying into the steel steps. Meanwhile, Angel was playing under the ring. She had an idea. Grinning to herself, she pulled out a small ladder and stood up, ready to throw it into the ring.

"Hey Angel," called a voice. "You give me that ladder."

"Okay, Kurt," she smirked. "I'll give it to you."

He was just behind her. She could hear him breathing. So, as she lifted the ladder, she kept it going over her head, planning to slam it into Kurt's face. Just at the critical moment, Kurt ducked, then spun around and grabbed the ladder. Angel tried to pull it away from him, but he slammed his end downwards. It clipped Angel on the jaw and she hit the deck with a thud.

Kurt gave an evil grin and threw the ladder into the ring, before clambering in after it. He opened it up and started to climb.

"Hey pussy!" Angel cried, picking herself up. "That ladder's too small. You're not going anywhere."

"Shut up, Angel!" Kurt shouted as he reached the top of the ladder and tried to grab for the medals. But Angel was right. He was never going to reach.

At that moment, Benoit ran in and knocked the ladder over, sending Kurt flying into the corner. Angel was there to meet him.

"Hi pussy. Mind if I take a look at that knee?"

She grabbed his left leg and wrapped it around the ringpost, once, twice. Then she picked up both legs, either side of the pole - and posted him. Screaming in pain, he fell from the ring, bounced off the steps and hit the ground.

"Get in the damn corner!"

Angel sighed. Benoit was back. She stepped back around the ring as Benoit threw Kurt into the crowd, then picked up a larger ladder. He put it in the ring, set it up, and started to climb.

Angel picked herself up nearby. Kurt would be back soon and she had to be ready. Then she spotted something and smiled. The small ladder was still there, lying on its side. Perfect. She ran for it and picked it up.

"Hey, I told you to keep out of it."

Angel frowned irritably as the ref tried to wrench the ladder from her grasp. The match was no frigging DQ. Why couldn't the prick just let her be? Suddenly, she heard a roar and spun around, releasing the ladder. Kurt was in and Benoit was on the mat.

"Son of a bitch," she spat. "Whoa, shit!"

Kurt had pushed the ladder and it was falling towards her. She jumped out the way just in time.

Kurt started pounding Benoit, then sent him for a snap suplex, just as Angel went for a standing dropkick to the knee. She hit it and jumped up for another, but she missed this one and slipped clumsily through the ropes and out of the ring. 

Kurt picked up the big ladder and started slamming it into Benoit's gut. Then he raised the ladder to the crowd and turned around to hit Benoit again, but Benoit simply raised his arm and hoisted both Kurt and the ladder from the ring.

"Holy shit!" Angel screamed as the ladder flew over her head. But this was no time to get freaked out. She had a job to do, so she hooked her arms under Kurt's, hoisted him to his feet, then slammed him down in a full nelson sit-out powerbomb.

Suddenly, Benoit picked her up by the neck.

"You listen to me, bitch! You get back in the damn corner. I don't want your help. I don't need your help. You have your own damn match tonight, so stay the hell out of mine. Do you hear me, bitch?"  
"Yes," Angel scowled, trying to struggle free.

"Good. Now get in the damn corner and stay there!"

"Fine," Angel sighed, stomping off to the corner. Screw Benoit. She was trying to help him win the damn match. She'd been kicked out for the second fall and he'd gone on to lose it. Coincidence? Angel didn't think so. Benoit needed her help. But if he didn't want it, she wasn't going to bust her ass giving it. He was on his own.

The ladder match passed in a haze of ladder shots, big falls and changing fortunes. Angel encouraged Benoit, but she stayed in the corner. She wouldn't help him, not even if he was going to die. He didn't deserve it and she'd be damned if…

Bam! Suddenly Angel flew through the air, over the ropes and the next thing she knew she was eating canvas. She rolled over to see what the hell had happened. Edge and Christian? What the? For their next trick, they jumped into the ring and started pounding Benoit. Angel didn't even think. She just dove for the nearest thing she could grab - Christian's leg - and dragged him away from the others. Then she jumped on his back, locked his arm in the leg scissors and applied the crossface. He tried to struggle but she slammed her elbow into the back of his head and locked on again. Christian started tapping, but she wasn't letting go. And then Kurt Angle kicked her in the head. She lost her grip on Christian and the world started to go black, but all she saw was Kurt. Kurt freaking Angle. 

She let out a roar and leaped, knocking Kurt down from behind. Then she pinned his back and grabbed for his leg. Ankle lock. She hadn't tried it with Benoit since before she'd broken her arm, but it wasn't hard. She remembered. And it may have been called the ankle lock, but Angel knew what she was doing. She wanted to bust his knee. He screamed in pain and started tapping, but she showed no mercy; she just kept on wrenching his boot around, ignoring her own pain shooting through her left arm.

Suddenly, Christian grabbed her and dragged her out of the ring, where Benoit was already trading punches with Edge. Angel kicked out and Christian flew into the announce desk. He didn't like that too much and soon they were brawling, just like Edge and Benoit. Angel ducked a punch and shoved Christian, giving her a second free. And then she jumped on Edge's back.

"Benoit! Go stop Kurt! Climb the ladder, I'll take care of these clowns."

Benoit growled and threw Edge away, taking Angel down too. Then he started climbing into the ring. Kurt was halfway up the ladder. There wasn't much time. Suddenly, the bitch cried out and someone grabbed Benoit's leg, pulling him down again. He tried to scramble free, but…Ding! Ding! Ding! Kurt had reached the medals. The match was over. 

"Son of a bitch!" Benoit screamed, finally kicking free and chasing after Kurt. But it was too late. Edge and Christian grabbed their friend and escaped up the ramp, leaving Benoit to furiously pace out the ring and contemplate what might have been. Eventually, he climbed down and searched for the bitch. She was just picking herself up, having been thrown over the announce desk, practically onto Paul Heyman's lap. Benoit glowered at her, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her towards the ramp.

"Let me go!" she shouted, as she always did.

"Shut up!" he snapped. "We'll debrief in the locker room."

She almost made some smartass comment about debriefing, but one look from him shut her up real quick. She also stopped struggling as he dragged her along. Finally, the bitch was getting it. He was pissed off. People didn't intentionally piss off Chris Benoit very often. It just wasn't smart.

* * * *

"I gave you one request!" Benoit screamed, his face a frightening magenta color. "One goddamn request! I told you to stay in the corner and keep out of the damn match! Why couldn't you do that?"

Angel sighed. "When Edge and Christian…"

"No!" Benoit cut her off. "You were trying shit long before then. You got your ass kicked out. Why didn't you just stay out?"

"Because I wanted…"  
"No!" Benoit screamed again. "It doesn't matter what you want. It was my match. That means I call the shots. I told you to stay in the damn corner. You should have just stayed in the damn corner. Because of you, I lost the match."

"Bullshit!" Angel cried. She'd put up with him yelling at her, but she wasn't going to let him lie. "Because of me you nearly won."

"Maybe you think so," Benoit scowled. "But let's remember something. I have had four Pay Per View matches against Kurt Angle. Twice I won. Twice I lost. In the matches I lost, you tried to help me. In the matches I won, you weren't even there. What does that say to you, bitch? What does that say? I don't need your help!" he shouted before she had a chance to respond. "If I wanted a tag partner, I'd get one. But even then, it wouldn't be you. So, you do your job and you be a damn valet. Accompany me to and from the ring and look pretty for the fans. That's what valets do. You're not a wrestler, you're a valet. You're a manager. You're nothing but a dumb broad and don't you forget it."

Angel glared up at him, then jumped to her feet, stormed over to the punching bag and started pounding at it as she could.

"You get your ass back here!" Benoit screamed. "I'm not done with you yet."

But Angel just ignored him and kept on punching the bag.

"Don't you dare turn your back on me, bitch!" he snapped, stepping up behind her. "Don't you dare…"

Bam! Just as he reached out to grab her shoulder and spin her around, she turned and scored a hard right hook to his face. His hand flew up and he glared at her viciously. Then he lunged forward, shouting furiously. He was going to kill her, he was going to kill her.

"Hey!" shouted Jericho, jumping between them before Benoit could even land a punch. "Cut this shit out!"

He pushed Benoit backwards, away from Angel. Benoit tried to reach around him, but Jericho wasn't going to let him do anything.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Benoit?"

Benoit panted and glared at Jericho. "She…that bitch…she…"

"Yeah, well maybe you deserved it," Jericho spat, still shoving him back towards the door.

"What?" Benoit screamed, his eyes crazed.

"Go take a shower, okay?" Jericho ordered, pushing him out the door. "Don't come back 'til you've cooled off."

He slammed the door shut before Benoit could argue, then stared over at Angel. She didn't thank him. She didn't even soften her scowl.

"You should have let me kick his ass."

Jericho gave her a serious frown. "He would have killed you."

But all she could think was that, if he'd hit her, and he would have, she'd be free now. But it wasn't Jericho's fault. He didn't get that bit. He thought he was doing the right thing and, after the mess with helping Benoit, she really couldn't fault him for that.

"Come on, baby," Jericho encouraged her. "We've got a match to prepare for. Let's stretch up."

Angel nodded slowly. He was right. They had a match.

* * * *

"Mr. Jericho? It's time for your match."

Jericho nodded over at the messenger, then looked over at Angel. "You ready, baby?"

She gave a tense nod. "Let's do this."

They left the locker room and headed for the ring. Benoit had returned after his shower, collected all his stuff and walked out again without a word. Since then, Angel and Jericho had been alone. They'd stretched up, changed outfits, talked strategy some more, and then the messenger had arrived and it was time to go.

Jericho gave her a sideways glance as they walked. "You nervous, baby?"  
She kept her eyes forward. "I'm shitting myself."

Jericho gave a laugh, then reached down and took her hand. It was freezing, but his was warm. She gave him a surprised look, but she didn't pull away and he smiled at her.

"Don't be nervous. You'll just be causing trouble like you always do, only this time it'll be legal."

Angel grinned and they walked on in silence. 

When they reached the backstage area, Angel looked around with a frown. There were tag teams all over the place, discussing things, even stretching up.

"Wait right here," Jericho whispered. "I'm gonna go mess with Coach's mind."

Angel gave a nod as he walked over to the interview space. She leaned against the wall and watched the other teams. It seemed like almost everyone except Edge and Christian were already here. They probably figured that, as team number seven, they had at least another twenty minutes. Well, good for them. Angel was glad to be early. Now she could scope out the competition.

"Hey, Kat's friend! You're lookin' hot, darlin'!"

Angel grinned up at him. "Hi Bradshaw."

"You heading out there, honey?"

"Yeah," Angel nodded. "I'll be there."

"Well, I hope I see you. I gotta go now."

"See you," Angel nodded. 

She kept surveying the other teams.

"Oh my God!" she cried. "No way!"

Suddenly, Jericho was back by her side. "What's wrong, baby?"  
"Look over there. X-Pac. When I got here today, he had a beard."

Jericho frowned over at his old enemy. "What did you say to him?"  
"That I didn't like facial hair."

"No kidding," Jericho laughed. "Insane, baby." 

He put a fond arm around her as teams one and two - the APA and the Radicalz - made their entrance.

"Hey, Chris. Just because you're our friend doesn't mean we won't kick your ass tonight."

Jericho gave a sarcastic grin. "Oh really, junior? We'll see, eh?"

Matt grinned back. "So, any clues on your mystery partner?"

Jericho frowned. "Okay, I'll tell you. But only you, Matt."

Matt nodded. "Who is he?"  
"You're looking at her."

Matt's mouth dropped open. "Angel?"  
"That's right," Jericho grinned. "Team Jericho, present and account for."

Matt shook his head. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"No, I'm not kidding," Jericho replied. "And, before you ask, yes, I am aware she's female and yes, she can fight."

Matt just frowned. "You're out of your damn mind."  
"You see, I don't think I am," Jericho protested. "Maybe you should wait until after you see us fight before you judge us, okay?"  
Matt glared at him. "Okay, Chris. But if she gets hurt out there, it's gonna be on your head. You're just damn lucky you told me and not Lita or Jeff."

Jericho just shrugged. "We'll see, Matt."

Matt glared at him, then slowly switched his gaze to Angel. "What the hell's the matter with you, Angel? I thought you were smarter than this."

Angel just stared back at him. "Well, Matt. I hope I see you in the ring. Then we'll see how smart I am."

Matt shook his head once more and then walked away, muttering, "Angel and Jericho? Jeff's gonna shit."

* * * *

"Break the Walls Down!"

Jericho made his entrance, then turned back and beckoned. His mystery partner was about to appear. Angel walked confidently to his side. She looked hot, in her 'Shooter' shirt and no bra. Unfortunately, the APA had been eliminated, but, as she looked out at their first opponents, she saw light at the end of the tunnel. X-Factor. X-Pac. She'd use her booby trap yet.

Jericho stopped partway down the ramp, turned to her and held out his fists. She grinned and brought hers down on his, then let him do the same. This was gonna be great!

If she could have heard he comments of the announcers, she might not have been so confident.

"That's a girl!"

"Chris Jericho's finally flipped. It's official."

"I think maybe Jericho's still feeling the effects of those conchairtos. He's brought a woman out to the ring as his tag team partner."

"A woman who tried to sit on my lap earlier tonight. She wants me, JR."

"Well, I don't know about that, but I can't help wondering. Should she be out here at all?"

"The Radicalz brought Terri."

"That's true enough, but Terri wasn't fighting and I'm not certain Angel should be either."

As they reached the ring, Jericho turned to her one last time. 

"You ready?" he asked again.

She nodded, before using one of his catchphrases. "It's go time."

She had just started to climb the steps into the ring when the fans let out a roar, Benoit leaped from the crowd, grabbed her and threw her to the ground. She angrily picked herself up and prepared to climb back in, when ding…ding…ding. The ringbell had sounded. She peered into the ring. Jericho was battling X-Pac as Benoit rook on Justin Credible. The match had started. Angel was not a part of it. Benoit, that son of a bitch, had stolen her match. She almost turned around and walked right out of there. But then she stopped herself. She'd come out here to help Jericho win a match, to help him kick Edge and Christian's asses. She could still do that. But first, they had to get past the X-Factor. And to ensure that happened, she'd have to do the impossible. She'd have to take out Albert.

Jericho had just landed a missile dropkick on the big man, who grabbed him like a doll and slammed him into a ringpost, then dumped him on the ground. Angel raced around the ring. There was Jericho, flat on his back, while Albert stood over him, shouting at the top of his lungs.

Angel ran towards them, jumped onto the barrier and flew. She grabbed Albert's ample head and slammed it down on the apron in a modified bulldog. Then she jumped out the way and started running.

"Come get me, you big ugly lug!"

She was halfway around the ring before she realized Albert wasn't following and, by the time she returned, he'd already bounced Jericho off the barrier like a basketball. Angel let out a cry, then ran after Albert. She formed the waistlock, leaned back and bam! Albert spun around and floored her with a single punch. Before she could recover, he picked her up like she weighed nothing and threw her into the crowd. 

Angel moaned and tried to regain her bearings. There were hands on her. People she didn't even know were going the grope. She quickly found her feet and broke free of the crowd, pulling herself up onto the barrier. She flew at Albert, looped her arms around his neck and got him in a chokehold. Then she hooked her legs around his waist and leaned back, increasing the pressure, cutting off his air. Albert simply spun around with one huge arm and knocked her to the ground. Her back and head hit and she cried out involuntarily. Albert stood imposingly over her.

"Stay down!" he boomed and then he walked away.

Angel pulled herself up so she was sitting. Albert was tough, that was certain, but she wasn't beaten yet. She finally caught her breath, picked up a nearby chair, ran at Albert and slammed it across his back. And then she ran.

This time, Albert followed her, obviously oblivious to the fact that it was all a ruse to keep him away from the in-ring action. Angel was agile and fast. She completed two laps and still had time to turned back periodically and make sure he was still following. Albert was growing impatient. Angel had to try something else. She slowed down as they rounded another corner. She could almost feel him breathing down the back of her neck. She was running towards the barrier, but instead of turning to keep on running, she leaped to the left, onto the barrier. Albert fell for it, slamming full force into the barrier and slumping over it. Angel leaped from her position, landing a dropkick to the back of his head. Then she grabbed his legs, pulled them straight and dug in a kick which, if he was a little shorter, would have hit him in the stomach. As it was, it brought tears to his eyes. She hit another for good measure, then pulled him backwards, off the barrier, trapped his arm and locked on the crossface. 

Seconds later, Albert threw her off easily. Angel scowled and ran at him, but he plucked her from the air again and held her over his head. Still holding her up, he stepped calmly over to the Spanish announce desk and dumped her onto it. She writhed in pain, but he wasn't done, discarding the covering from the desk, then scooping her up again. He held her high, over his head, then brought her down in a devastating powerbomb, which shattered the table. Angel screamed and then everything went black.

"Hello? Are you okay? Do you need help? Hello?"

It took Angel a moment to realize that the voices were speaking in Spanish. She didn't feel like opening her eyes just yet, but she did reply, in the same language.

"I'm okay. I just need to lie down for a minute."

And so she did, right where she was until…ding…ding…ding. She suddenly sat upright and her eyes shot open. Who'd won? Then she heard 'Break Down The Walls' and she let out a huge sigh. It was her team. They'd won. And then the song changed.

"You think you know me."

Angel glared as they made their entrance. Suddenly, she remembered why she was out here. X-Factor had been formidable, but this battle was what it was really about. She pulled herself up and stumbled towards Benoit and Jericho's corner. No matter what, she was going to get involved in this match. Edge and Christian would rue the day they turned against her. 

She got her chance early as Christian rolled from the ring. Benoit followed him, but Angel didn't care. She sneaked up behind Christian, got a double handful of his hair, then yanked him to the ground before landing on top of him with a flurry of punches.

Suddenly, Benoit grabbed her and shoved her away.

"Get back in the corner, bitch."

"Screw you, Benoit. This is my match."

"Whose match?" Benoit smirked.

"It's mine and you know it, you piece of shit."

While they were arguing, Christian slipped away from them and climbed onto the apron, where the ref could see him. Angel's chance was gone. She sighed and stormed away from Benoit without another word, knowing that now she had nothing to do but join Benoit's Y2J cheerleading squad and wait for her next opportunity.

"Come on, Y2J! Fire up!"

"Let's go, Jerky! Kick out! Yeah!"

When Edge was out of the ring, she landed her hit and run stick shots, but she knew it wasn't doing much damage.

"Come on, Jericho!"

Edge grounded Jericho, then walked over and taunted Benoit, who leaped into the ring. The ref raced over and tried to stop him, allowing Christian in for the illegal double team. But Angel wasn't upset. She actually smiled, then walked so she was behind the ref and dove into the ring. She focused on Christian, sized him up, then sprinted towards him. Bam! A spear into the ropes and Christian was down. Angel climbed to the floor, grabbed for Christian's hair, then twisted his neck around and slammed his face into the steel steps. Finally, before Christian could get up or the ref could see, she ran, and was back in her own corner in no time.

Edge taunted Benoit again, but this time he didn't fall for it, much to Angel's disgust.

"Come on, Jerky! Come on!"

"Fire up, Y2J! Fire up!"

Edge and Christian whipped Jericho into the corner and went for the Poetry In Motion. But Jericho, who'd performed that same move with Angel that very morning, was never going to fall for it. He ducked out the way, brought Edge down in the bulldog and finally tagged in Benoit, who quickly knocked Edge off the apron. Angel was on the run again.

"You know what, Edge?" she cried, leaping onto him, grabbing his head and slamming it back onto the ground over and over again. "I've changed, you know? I fight dirty now!" 

With that, she bounced to her feet and stomped her boot down on his groin. Edge's scream sounded so good she did it again. Then she took a few steps back to survey the damage.

"The only thing you reek of now is impotence, jackass!"

Then, rubbing her hands together for a job well done, she returned to her corner. Obviously, Edge didn't have much down there anyway, because he soon climbed back into the ring to bail out his brother. Jericho raced in there and all four started brawling.

"Come on, Benoit!" Angel cried. "Come on, Jericho!"

There were bodies all over the ring by the time Edge tapped Christian in the face and they climbed down to pick up some chairs. Angel tired to grab Edge's but he swung it free, then turned to the ring. Just then, Jericho and Benoit his simultaneous baseball slides, slamming the chairs into Edge and Christian's faces. Benoit threw Christian back into the ring as Jericho dumped Edge. They both picked up the chairs and climbed back in after Christian as Angel looked on, a smile on her face. 

"Hello Edge," she mused, climbing onto the apron. 

As soon as Edge found his feet, Angel flew in the 'rana and he was down again. Angel bounced right up and started removing the cover from the remaining announce desk.

"Excuse me, guys," she said to Heyman and JR. "I'll just be a second."

Cover safely removed, she climbed up onto the desk, took a peek over her shoulder and flew in the moonsault. She landed on Edge and pinned him, landing punch after punch until ding…ding…ding. She threw him down. 'Shooter' was playing. They'd won.

"We won!" Angel screamed, leaping into the ring. "We won!"

Jericho was lying on his back, absolutely spent. Angel raced to his side.

"We won, Jerky! We beat those sons of bitches!"

He just groaned in pain. Suddenly, she felt herself being pushed aside. Damn Benoit. He helped Jericho to his feet, shouted something obviously inspirational, then butted chests with him and they patted each other on the back. 

Angel stood out of the way, watching them expressionlessly. Who was she kidding? Benoit and Jericho had won, not her. What had _she_ done? Scored a few cheap shots on the outside and felt what it was like for her back to slam through an announce table. Whoop-de-freaking-doo. She wasn't the number one contender for the tag team championship. She was just the valet.

"Rogue!"

She looked up. Jericho was stumbling towards her, a half-crazed grin on his face.

"We did it, Rogue!"

"Yeah, you did," Angel replied quietly, as he reached her.

He wrapped his arms around her, gripped her tightly, and then he kissed her. When he pulled away, Angel stared at him, surprised. It hadn't been a long kiss, and it had been more friendly than romantic, all lip, no tongue, no real mouth movement to speak of. But it had been nice and now she was smiling.

He held her at arm's length and stared into her eyes.

"No, Rogue. _We_ did it. I saw you with Albert and…is that Edge? What did you do to him?"  
Angel grinned and shrugged her shoulders. "What _didn't _I do to him?"

"Rogue, you're something else," Jericho grinned. "Now, let's get out of here while I can still walk."

Angel gave a little laugh and helped him from the ring, unable to resist the opportunity to give Christian a little boot to the ribs. So maybe _she_ wasn't the number one contender. Jericho had made it clear that she was part of the team. And she'd also gotten a pretty significant revenge. And really, that was all she'd wanted in the first place.

****************************************************************************************

A/N: Well, I know it wasn't the greatest of endings, but there was a little smoochie smoochie which, if you're not reading on, you can use your imagination for and Angel got her revenge, so it is an end point and the best I could come up with! 

The next chapter will be posted a week from today with a new disclaimer outlining what you can expect from the actual ending. I won't be giving a disclaimer every chapter because I want to leave at least some surprise in it. Also, I should tell you, it won't be NC-17 for a few chapters yet, so you can read on, just keep in mind what I tell you next chapter, okay? Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed, you guys are so awesome I don't even know what to say. Maybe some day I'll manage to write a fic that doesn't have to have the rating changed *glares at dirty, foul-mouthed, violent musi* See ya round ff.net and hopefully at the NC-17 section. If you're wondering, I do have another R-rated (for violence and language) fic up, called 'Style & Perfection'. It's a good old-fashioned love story. Well, that's enough from me, cheers once more and don't forget to keep reading other people's stories - they're the best inspiration for any writer. *HUGZ!*


	56. NOTE PLEASE READ

NOTE TO ALL READERS OF ROGUE ANGEL:

I logged in to ff.net today to find out that it's taking off all NC-17 stories. Of course, this kicks me right in the ass just when my NC-17 ending was about to take flight.

In case you can't tell, I'm not happy with this, but there's nothing I can do about it and since I'm not a paying member of this site anyway *shrugs*

So here's what's gonna happen:

- My fics archived so far on this site will stay, except for 'A Jack Daniels Kind Of Night', which is NC-17.

- No more additions to 'Rogue Angel' will be made on ff.net, although I'll definitely be posting more of 'Style & Perfection' as well as other stories when inspiration strikes.

- I will, however, be continuing 'Rogue Angel'. It's my pride and joy, the one that clears my mind and makes me happy.

- If you are interested in reading more of 'Rogue Angel' (and I hope you are), please email me: lyndelle@chariot.net.au and I'll send on my snazzy new warnings/disclaimers page as well as Chapter 56. I'd also definitely still appreciate reviews, even if they're only a line or so. 

- I'm gonna join a Yahoo group for fan fiction…because Yahoo Groups rule!!! For the record, I talk wrestling at the Yahoo Group 'TheWrestlingAlliance'. I wax poetic (and very biased) on everything regarding the WWE. Feel free to join me, it's not a huge group so you can have some great conversations! Aha, I've chosen a couple of groups so if you like my fic and/or write some of your own, you might find me at 'FanFictionsFinest' or 'wrestlingfanfic'.

- I do believe in the maintenance of innocence, however I also believe that it's reader beware and that a copious warning (like the one that proceeds Ch 56 of 'Rogue Angel'…you'll see) is sufficient.

Well, that's my 2 cents. Once more, thanks for reading this far, you guys are the best and I definitely hope to see you round!!!

Lyndelle (BizGirlCharlie)

PS: Please don't get pissed off if I email this to you before you read it on the site. I believe in keeping everyone informed and apologies if you just want me to shut the hell up (yes…I'm an activist, lol)


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